Madness
by DeDe324
Summary: 'I, I can't get these memories out of my mind…and some kind of madness has started to evolve…and I, I tried so hard to let you go…but some kind of madness is swallowing me whole…' What happens when you have to choose between what you've always wanted and what you never knew you needed? Rated M for violence, language, and eventual smut.
1. Explosions

**Author's Note: **So, after writing 'Coming Home', I really wanted to dig into the character of Shelby and develop her story in the SOA world. Needless to say, she took me in quite a different direction than I anticipated, pulling my boy Tig into the mix. This story isn't anywhere close to finished, but I seem to be going at a decent clip, hopefully it stays that way. This is pretty much AU after the season 1 finale, so obviously there will be differences from the show. I'm really not following that storyline at all. _  
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**Disclaimer:**I have no claim to SOA, Opie, Tig, etc. Those rights belong to Kurt Sutter, Ryan Hurst, Kim Coates, etc. But thank you to them for bringing them to my life, ha. 'Madness' belongs to Muse, 'Explosions' to Ellie Goulding. All I can truly lay claim to is Shelby.

**_'Explosions… on the day you wake up needing somebody and you've learned… it's okay to be afraid… but it will never be the same...'_**

She was _gone…_

Opie cradled his head in his hands, hands that he didn't think would ever be washed of Donna's blood, no matter how many times he ran them under scalding hot water. He could feel the stain on his skin, collecting under dirty nails. He had never meant for it to come to this. He had known how dangerous it could be for both Donna and the kids… all with his involvement in SAMCRO…

"Donna," he bit out, his voice low. God, he missed her. She'd stood by him for all this time, even staying with him while he'd been in prison for 5 years no matter how much he'd tried to push her away, how many times he told her to take the kids and not look back. And this was how she was repaid.

"God DAMMIT!" he shouted, slamming his fist into the wall, barely noticing the crack he left in the plaster. He fell to the floor at the foot of his bed… their bed… His hands fisted in his hair and he squeezed his eyes shut trying to stop the burning of tears and the influx of memories.

Why _her_? Why did _she _have to be the one to die? It should have been him… He'd always known that he probably wouldn't last all that long, not with the decisions he was forced to make, the lifestyle he'd been born into. He often thought it was a miracle Piney was still kicking around after all these years.

But not Donna. Donna was supposed to be the one to grow old, take care of their children. They'd talked about it, the 'what if' game that parents tended to play. But they'd never considered that she would go before he would, that he would be the one that the kids were left with. Why would they? She had still been so young… good health… took care of herself. And he had tried _**so hard**_ to keep her separate from his life of violence. He loved his club, but he loved her and the kids just as much, if not more. He'd tried to protect them.

But he'd failed. He'd failed her. He'd failed their children. He'd broken every promise he'd ever made to her as soon as that first bullet penetrated her skull…

He curled up on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest, trying to push the pain away. He knew Donna wouldn't want to see him like this, that she'd expect him to be stronger. If not for himself, then for Kenny and Ellie.

But he couldn't even _look_ at them… not when Ellie had Donna's eyes… when Kenny gave him Donna's smile… What kind of father was he that he couldn't even look at his own children? He squeezed his eyes shut, screwing them so tight that all he could see were fractures of light behind his eyelids...

"_Opie_!"

Slowly he opened his eyes, shocked to find the room covered in darkness as he rolled to his back, his eyes on the ceiling. Was the day already over? What day _was _it, now that he thought about it? Since seeing Donna's body, he'd lost track of time...

"Hey, Op! You in here?"

He could hear Jax's voice, but he couldn't bring himself to respond, didn't really see the point. Maybe if he stayed quiet, Jax would go, leave him to mourn…

Opie shifted, letting out a quiet grunt. He noticed his back was stiff. He was getting too old to lay on the floor like this. But he refused to move, give himself any sort of relief. He _deserved _this pain, this discomfort. If anything, he deserved a hell of a lot more misery than what he had gotten. He should be forced to suffer...

"Opie..."

Jax's footsteps moved across the carpet and Opie saw the familiar scuffed white shoes out of the corner of his eye. He heard the shifting of denim and leather as his best friend crouched down, his hand gently resting on his shoulder. "How are you?" Jax asked quietly, cautiously, though they both already knew the answer.

Opie blinked, his eyes still frozen on the ceiling. "I killed her," he muttered, a tear falling from his eye.

Jax let out a sigh and sprawled on the carpet next to his oldest friend. "You didn't pull that trigger," he replied, folding his hands on his chest. "It wasn't your _fault_, Op. You gotta stop blamin' yourself. Isn't good for you or the kids."

Opie shook his head, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. "I should've been in the truck…" he choked out.

The blond really didn't know what to say. He couldn't blame Opie for tearing himself apart over this. He could only imagine how he himself would be acting if roles were reversed and he had just buried Tara. Just the thought made his heart hurt… losing Tara… or Abel…

Jax internally shook those thoughts from his mind. He couldn't think that way. Not when his best friend was teetering on the edge like he was and had been for the last month. He pushed himself off the floor, reaching his hand out. "C'mon."

Opie blinked up at him with bloodshot eyes. "What?"

The VP reached down and grabbed his friend by the arm, forcing him to his feet. "It's not doing you any kind of good to leave you here in this house," he reasoned, putting his arm around Opie's shoulders. "Let me get you a drink, alright?"

The taller man shook his head. "I really don't wanna see anyone, brother," he admitted. "Just want to be alone for awhile." He shrugged out from under Jax's arm.

The blond wrapped a hand around his elbow, stopping him in place. "It's been over a month," he argued. "I've given you time, you gotta get back to normal at some point."

Opie let out a sigh, his shoulders drooping. He knew Jax wouldn't leave, not until he got his way. And he always seemed to manage to get his way… Opie really didn't have the energy to fight him. He snagged his skullcap off the bedpost, tucking it over his hair and giving a shrug. "You lead," he said quietly, motioning that he would follow.

* * *

Opie sat alone, his hands loosely surrounding a bottle of beer. He stared at a knot in the table, barely aware at the chatter and laughter around him. He could feel different sets of eyes watching him from different corners of the bar, but no one had really approached him since Jax dragged him into the clubhouse. He knew they didn't know what to say. It's not like any of them knew what it was like to have their wife gunned down in cold blood.

He sighed, letting his nail scratch against the corner of the label on the bottle. He wasn't being fair. Everyone here understood loss. Hell, Jax had lost his father a long time ago and it wasn't like Clay had replaced JT for him. Gemma had lost a son _and _a husband. It wasn't like they hadn't all lost someone being in the club.

But they didn't know what it was like to lose _Donna_. They didn't know what it was like when Opie woke up in the morning and had to relive that she was gone all over again. When he'd open his eyes, he'd still reach towards her pillow, expecting to feel the silky strands of her hair under his fingers. But when his hand would find the cold pillowcase instead, it all came crashing back down, reminding him that Donna was long dead.

He let out a grunt, lifting his other hand to rub the back of his neck, blinking back the threat of tears. Jax was right, he had to get back to normal. But what the hell was normal anymore? Normal had been Donna, doing work around the house, making love to her in their bedroom, arguing about absolutely nothing. What did he have now to consider 'normal'?

* * *

Shelby Lerner tightened her arms around her torso, staring up at the looming clubhouse. She hadn't seen this place for over a decade, but it looked just as ominous as it always had. She could hear the thumping beat inside, mixing with muted voices and laughter, the clinking of beer bottles...

"You lost, sweetheart?"

The brunette glanced over her shoulder, startled by the voice. She couldn't make out much in the dark, the light illuminating behind the figure as she lifted her hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes. "I'm looking for Opie Winston," she replied. "Figured he might be here. Or someone might know where I could find him."

The man stepped forward and she couldn't help herself from giving him a once over. He looked to be an inch or two over 6'0, unkempt dark curls sprouting from his head making him seem even taller, giving him an air of menace. His eyes were covered by a pair of dark lenses, not seeming to be concerned about clear vision at this late hour. She recognized the cut, realizing that he must have been one of Opie's 'brothers'.

"Sergeant at Arms, huh?" she asked, her eyes traveling over his patch before moving back to his face, a dark eyebrow arched.

She could see the tightening around his mouth as he regarded her carefully and she imagined his eyes narrowed in scrutiny behind the glasses. "You lookin' for a ride, doll?" he asked, lighting a cigarette and tucking it into the corner of his mouth. "Don't know if you heard, but Opie's a bit out of commission these days."

Shelby wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "Well, aren't you just a charmer?" she retorted. "I just need to talk to him, that's all."

The man regarded her carefully as they stood in silence, seeming to size each other up. Slowly he reached up and lowered his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to give her a closer look. Her breath hitched as she met his eyes, caught off guard by their unexpected intensity. They were an icy blue and she felt like he could see right through her. His mouth twitched at her reaction, but she wasn't sure if it was due to amusement or something else.

"Let me see if I can round him up for you, doll," he finally replied, sliding his glasses back into place. "You got a name I can give him?"

She swallowed. "Just tell him Shelby's looking for him," she replied, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder.

He shoved a hand in his pocket, the other pinching his cigarette, giving it a drag before pulling it from his mouth. He gave her a nod before ducking through the door, disappearing into a cloud of smoke and volume. She exhaled a breath that she hadn't known she was holding as a shiver coursed down her spine.

* * *

Tig glanced around the clubhouse, his eyes settling on Opie sitting alone at a corner table, shoulders hunched. He ran a hand through his dark curls and tried to tap down the lump of guilt that had settled in his throat, a lump that seemed permanently lodged since he had to see Donna slumped over the steering column, her head bloody, her dead eyes staring at him accusingly.

"Hey, Op," he called, sliding his sunglasses to the top of his head as he approached the table.

The bearded man looked up, seeming slightly surprised that Tig was even acknowledging him. "Yeah?" he croaked, clearing his throat.

Tig jabbed his thumb towards the door and jerked his chin over his shoulder. "Some gash is outside lookin' for you, asked me to come get you."

Opie shook his head. "Not in the mood to entertain some croweater or sweetbutt tonight, Tig," he replied, his blunt nail picking at the label on his beer bottle, his eyes downcast. "Little soon, don't you think?"

The darker man gave a scoff. "You think I'd be in here wastin' my time with you if it was just some fuckin' _croweater_, man? Hell, if that's all she was, I'd take care of it myself." He shook his head. "Seemed like she knew you, said her name was Shelby or some shit like that."

Opie seemed to freeze at the name as it tumbled out of Tig's mouth, his eyes growing wide in surprise. "She give you a last name?"

The older man shook his head. "Nah, man, just Shelby. She didn't want to offer much except she was looking for you."

Opie slowly stood up from the table. "What'd she look like?" he pushed, resting his knuckles on the tabletop.

Tig let out a quiet groan of frustration. "Shit, bro, she looked like some broad, what the hell do you want from me?"

Opie pushed his way past towards the door. "You're welcome!" Tig called after him, swiping the still full beer from the tabletop and taking a swig. "Last time I do him any favors," he muttered, letting his eyes scan the crowd for his evening entertainment.

* * *

Opie shoved open the door, his head turning from side to side as he searched the lot, his heart pounding in his chest. Shelby couldn't be here… could she? How would she even _know_? He'd wanted to call her, but didn't know how to contact her. He hadn't heard from her in so long… it had been even longer since he'd actually seen her. Would he even recognize her? How'd she know where to find him?

"Op?"

He spun around, his eyes scanning the darkness to his left. He saw the glow of a cigarette cherry in the shadows before it tumbled to the ground and disappeared. A woman slowly stepped out of the shadows, her feet shuffling against the pavement.

His breath caught in his throat as he came to recognize her. Waves of dark chocolate tumbled past her shoulders, wide green eyes framed in black… Her white blouse hugged at her curves, meeting a pair of tight dark blue jeans, a hole in the knee.

"Shel," he breathed, stepping forward, closing the distance between them.

She gave him a sad, almost shy, smile and wrapped her arms around him tightly. "Missed you, Opie," she whispered, pressing her face to his neck.


	2. Stay Awhile

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the delay guys… this chapter gave me such issues, not really sure why. But here it finally is. Advancing the plot if you will. Thank you to everyone that favorited/followed/reviewed on chapter 1. I hope your still with me and you enjoy the chapter. Again, this is AU after the season 1 finale, so if something is familiar, that's dumb luck, haha. Meh, I don't have much to say, so I hope you enjoy this chapter… I'm gonna go work on 3 so I don't keep you waiting as long (I hope)._  
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I forgot to thank **siarh **in chapter 1, so I must remedy that now. Thank you milady for holding my hand and talking me off the ledge like you do. If you guys haven't read her stuff, take care of that now.

**Disclaimer:**I have no claim to SOA, Opie, Tig, etc. Those rights belong to Kurt Sutter, Ryan Hurst, Kim Coates, etc. But thank you to them for bringing them to my life, ha. 'Madness' belongs to Muse, 'Stay Awhile' belongs to Ryan Star. All I can truly lay claim to is Shelby.

**'_Stay awhile, oh you've got to stay awhile… these days are wild, baby, won't you stay awhile...'_**

"So you're tellin' me Donna had a sister?" Tig asked, glancing over at Gemma, popping a peanut into his mouth and crunching it between his teeth.

Gemma smoothed the rolling pin over the batch of dough. "Yeah, wild little bitch that one was," she replied. She smacked at Clay's hand as it reached past her waist for the pie cooling on the counter. "Hands off, baby, these aren't for you."

Her husband gave a scowl but lifted his hands in surrender. "I'm just hungry, alright? You've been so busy bakin' you've been starvin' and neglectin' me."

She jerked her chin towards the icebox in the corner. "Eat some of the leftovers, clean out the fridge for me."

Clay grumbled but kissed her cheek and made his way across the kitchen, smacking Tig over the head on his way. "Stop yappin' and leave my queen to her work."

Gemma rolled her eyes and glanced back at Tig. "Just ignore him, that's what I tend to do," she suggested. "And why are you asking me about Donna's sister?" She raised an eyebrow.

The darker man shrugged, taking a pull from his beer. "Cute little thing was hanging outside the clubhouse last night. Said she was lookin' for Opie when I pulled up and when I told him Shelby was lookin' for him, he dipped out and I didn't see him after that. I mentioned the name to your boy, he told me the only Shelby he knew that would be lookin' for Op was Donna's little sister."

Gemma shook her head, settling her dough into a pie pan. "So little Shelby Lerner's back from the dead, huh?" She paused, seeming to ponder. "Has to have been 10 years since she had the nerve to show her face around Charming." She let out a snort. "Figured the next time we'd hear about her, she'd be a corpse in a gutter somewhere. She never was all that bright."

Tig's eyes narrowed in curiosity as Clay settled in a chair beside him with a container brimming with food. "Back from the dead?"

"Figure of speech, brother," the president warned. "Don't be getting any ideas in that fucked up head of yours."

His Sergeant scoffed. "I just meant, where's she been?"

Gemma exchanged a look with her husband before grabbing an apple to core and slice. "She left Charming right after Opie and Donna's wedding." She scoffed. "Actually, she left _during_ the wedding-"

"Sounds scandalous," Tig interjected.

Clay shoveled a bite of cold meat loaf into his mouth. "Since when are you some kind of gossip queen?" he teased after he swallowed.

Tig shrugged, breaking a piece of beef and tossing it into his mouth. "So mysterious pussy intrigues me, so what?" he muttered around the food, returning his focus to the Teller matriarch

"Apparently ancient history does too," the older man shot back, leaning back in his chair, chewing quietly.

Gemma shook her head. "Poor girl thought she was in love with Opie," she explained, settling an apple core to the side. "But Op's always been loyal, almost to a fault. And I can't imagine he'll settle in with Shelby so quick. If at all, he wouldn't want to do that to Donna's memory." She glanced back at the table. "How do you not remember any of this? You were in Charming then."

Clay pointed his fork at Tig. "Op got married back when you were in lock up, right?"

He shook his head. "Nah, I was helping out the charter in Oregon."

Gemma let out a snort. "That's a convenient way to put it," she snarked. "Don't you mean when you were 'making friends' with farm animals?" she countered, leaning over to slip her pie into the oven, taking out another that had been baking.

He gave her a grin. "There was no penetration involved, mom," he retorted, his eyes sparkling. "Just some wigglin' around. Had to pass the time somehow."

She shook her head. "Sometimes I think we only keep you around for the stories, Tiggy," she teased, wiping her hands on her jeans.

"So this sister," Tig continued, coming back to the original subject. "She left because she couldn't take Donna getting with Opie? She was jealous?"

Gemma shook her head. "No, baby. Donna banished her from Charming after she caught her with Opie right before she was going to walk down the aisle. Pretty sure she threatened to kill Shelby if she ever came back."

* * *

Shelby felt the sun on her face before she saw it. She slowly let her eyes flutter open, the window blinds lifted just enough that the light of the sun painted the room in a soft orange glow. She let out a quiet yawn and snuggled into the pillow beneath her cheek. She took a deep breath, inhaling the smoky and spicy scent that she had always associated with Opie.

At the thought of her brother-in-law, she moved to a sitting position, looking around the room. Where the hell was she? She rubbed her hands over her face as the night before came flooding back to her. He had managed to slip her back into the clubhouse and while she knew what most people assumed, they had gone back to one of the spare rooms, and caught up. They spent a good portion of the night talking, remembering Donna and the years that had passed, almost feeling as though they had stepped back in time.

But where the hell was Opie _now_?

Her attention was pulled to the other side of the room at the sound of a snore. She couldn't help but smile when she saw Opie sprawled out in the desk chair, his head pitched toward his right shoulder. His hands were draped over the arm rests, his legs spread to keep him in the chair. He let out a another snore, shifting as he tried to get a bit more comfortable in the unforgiving chair.

Shelby couldn't help but smile, pulling her knees to her chin. She wrapped her arms around her calves and quietly watched him as he slept. She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. God, she'd missed him. She'd known that, she'd missed him the moment she had walked out of the church all those years ago… but when she had seen him walk out of the clubhouse the night before…

She'd almost forgotten how to breathe at the sight of him, her heart skipping a beat. It was almost as if she hadn't ever left, as if no time had passed at all. He appeared older… taller… broader… But he was still _Opie_. That much hadn't changed.

Slowly, Shelby slid out of the bed, her feet hitting the floor without sound. She stretched her arms toward the ceiling, wincing as her back cracked into place. Her mouth stretched in a yawn and she rubbed her hands over her face before glancing down at her clothes, frowning at the wrinkles. She smoothed a palm over her shirt, running her other hand through her hair, wincing as her fingers caught in an especially stubborn knot. Her eyes moved around the room, looking for a mirror, but all she found were posters of a couple scantily clad car models.

She let out a quiet sigh before moving across the floor, closer to Opie. He didn't stir, his snores still echoing around the otherwise quiet room. She slipped behind the desk chair and gently rested her hands on his shoulders, kneading carefully. She felt him stir beneath her hands as she rubbed her thumbs over an especially stubborn knot at the top of his spine.

"If you ever stop doing that, I'll never speak to you again," Opie rasped, his voice rough with sleep.

Shelby chuckled, giving his shoulders a squeeze. "You're pretty tense, Op," she murmured.

He let out a grunt, arching into her hands. "Lotta shit goin' on," he replied, hissing as she dug her thumbs into his skin.

"That hurt?" Shelby asked, easing the pressure a touch.

"Means it's working," he replied, glancing at her over his shoulder. "And I'm tough, I can take a little pain."

She let out a quiet chuckle, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and a giving his shoulders a squeeze. "Better?" she asked, sliding out from behind the chair.

Opie gave her a nod, straightening his legs in front of him and crossing them at the ankle. "Thanks," he murmured, folding his hands over his stomach, his elbows resting on the armrest. "What's on your agenda today?"

Shelby opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a sharp knock. They both glanced at the door as it was pushed open, a blonde head coming into view.

"What's up, Sack?" Opie asked, pushing himself to his feet.

The younger man cleared his throat and stuck his thumb over his shoulder. "Jax was looking for you," he muttered, trying to keep his gaze on Opie. "Told me to find you if I could."

The bearded man gave him a nod. "Tell him I'll be out in a minute," he replied, dismissing the Prospect as he turned back to Shelby.

"Duty calls, huh?" the brunette asked as the door clicked shut.

Opie snagged his skull cap off the desk, pulling it over his head. "Should only take me a few minutes, if you wanna wait or…?"

Shelby shook her head, glancing at her watch. "Nah, I should take care of things," she replied vaguely, waving her hand. "But, I could stop by the house later, maybe?" She gave him a hopeful look.

He gave her a smile. "That works, I'd like that." He leaned down, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. "It's really good to have you back, Shel," he murmured in her hair, holding her close.

She squeezed her eyes shut, savoring how it felt to be in his arms again. "It's good to be home."

Opie held her for a few more moments, breathing in the scent of her perfume and shampoo. It felt good to hold a woman again, even if it wasn't Donna. He pressed his lips to her hair before taking a step back, letting his hand travel down her arm. "I'll see you later," he promised, smiling beneath his facial hair.

Shelby returned the smile and nodded, giving him a wave as he ducked out the door, pulling it shut behind him. She tucked a hand into her pocket, her smile fading as her fingers moved over the smooth metal inside. She had almost forgotten…

She pulled the ring from her pocket, her eyes watching as the metal caught the sunlight, the white gold shining. She folded her fingers around the band, pressing it into her palm.


	3. Secret

**Author's Note: **Hello friends. Well, chapter 3 was pretty much already finished, so after some tweaks and debating, here it is. Advancing the plot if you will… I'm hoping with this to manage a sort of 'slow burn'. A lot of developments are in the works and I hope you all enjoy the path the character's are taking me on. We shall see though._  
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Thank you to **siarh **for taking the time to always look things over and listen to me whine. I also wanna thank **msreedus69 **and **Valerie E. Mackin **for taking the time to review. And also thank you to those that have favorited and followed.

**Disclaimer:**I have no claim to SOA, Opie, Tig, etc. Those rights belong to Kurt Sutter, Ryan Hurst, Kim Coates, etc. But thank you to them for bringing them to my life, ha. 'Madness' belongs to Muse, 'Secret' belongs to Missy Higgins. All I can truly lay claim to is Shelby.

'_**Cause you've got a secret, don't ya baby? Yeah you, you got a secret, don't ya babe? And I should know… yeah, I should know...'**_

Tig cruised down Main Street, contemplating his earlier conversation with Gemma. He was surprised he hadn't ever heard anything about this mysterious "sister". Then again, it wasn't like he had ever been all that close to Opie. They were brothers in the club, but that didn't mean they bonded or spent any sort of time one on one unless it was club related. Hell, he was pretty sure that the younger guy didn't have any idea about his daughters. Personal had no place in the MC. Sure, you became closer with people, but really, besides Jax and Piney, Opie didn't really take the time with the others. Which Tig was fine with, unless it got in the way of business.

And then there was the other fact that except for maybe Clay, Tig just didn't _care. _ He really wasn't interested in what went on outside of the clubhouse for his brothers. Generally, getting involved in their outside shit proved to be nothing but trouble. He loved his brothers, loved them like they were his own blood (which to an extent, they were, based on what they were forced to share), but that didn't mean he was going to be the guy they turned to in their time of 'need' whenever that may be...

He was so distracted by his thoughts that he almost missed Shelby as she stepped onto the sidewalk, digging through her purse underneath the awning of the local pawn shop. He eased on his breaks, backing his bike to the curb, his eyes zeroed in on her behind his dark lenses. She seemed to be counting, lost in her own thoughts. Then again, she probably wouldn't expect that anyone would be watching her.

He took the time to look her over, really analyze what he was looking at now that he had the chance. She looked about 5'5, which made sense. Donna hadn't been all that tall either. Her hair was long, dark brown waves running down her back, framing her face, side swept bangs that kept falling in her eyes while she looked down. He couldn't recall the color of her eyes, she had been blocked by shadows the night before and now she was just too far away. He could see she had a decent figure beneath her clothes, a strip of her toned stomach appearing between her shirt and jeans. Nice rack that made his cock twitch. Tig had to admit she was the type of girl that made you look at least twice.

He pressed the heel of his hand against his crotch, glancing from side to side, but no one really took notice. He swung his leg off the Dyna, wiping his palms on his thighs before cracking his knuckles and approaching the sidewalk.

* * *

"Fancy meeting you here, darlin'."

Shelby slowly lifted her head in surprise. There were only a handful of people in Charming that would take the time to speak to her, even less that would pretend to be polite. She slowly came to recognize the man in front of her as the one that had found Opie the evening before, his dark curls seeming even wilder in the daylight.

Her hand curled around the wad of bills in her purse, pushing them lower to keep them out of sight. "May I help you with something?" she asked cautiously, running her free hand through her hair.

An almost sinister grin curled over his lips as he watched her, seeming to gauge her discomfort at his presence as he lifted his shades of his eyes, sliding them on top of his head. "There's a lot you could help me with, I'm sure," he replied, a suggestive tone simmering beneath his words as those eyes raked over her before moving back to her face, settling on her mouth.

Shelby gave him a thin smile, tucking the money at the bottom of her purse and pulling her hand out, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder. "Guess that's something for another day," she retorted. "I have places to be Mister…" She trailed off, wracking her brain for his name. She knew Opie had mentioned a few men from the club as they'd moved towards the dorms, but she just couldn't recall. "Juice?"

He let out a snort of disbelief. "You think that's my name, doll?" He shook his head. "I like the boy well enough, but that's almost insulting."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, well, forgive me for not remembering your name that you never took the time to give me."

"It's Tig, sweetheart," he offered. "You'll do well to remember that."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" she asked. "And why's that?"

He gave her a leer. "You seem like a smart girl, I think you can figure out what I'm telling you."

Shelby scoffed. "If you think it's that easy, you're sadly mistaken," she shot back, giving him a smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me…" She moved to walk past him, taking care not to touch him as she passed.

His hand shot out, his fingers curling around her bicep to hold her in place. "You think with your sister out of the picture you're just gonna settle back in? Make Charming your home again?"

Shelby froze at his words. He said them softly, just barely above a whisper, but she could hear the sharpness on each letter and she knew he meant to cut with his seemingly innocent questions. She turned slowly, her green eyes meeting the icy blue of his own and she carefully set her jaw. "Excuse me?" she clipped, holding him with her stare.

"I'm just curious why you're back in town, what your agenda may be," he replied easily, his gaze shifting to focus further down the street, his fingers still tight around her arm.

She narrowed her eyes, taking a step back to put some distance between them, ripping herself from his grip. "My sister was just _murdered _and you're standing there asking if I have an _agenda_?" she spat, her eyes moving over him in disgust.

He scoffed, trying to block out the sudden image of Donna's dead, unseeing eyes. "Funeral was weeks ago, sugar," he reminded her. "You're gonna have to try a little harder if you wanna convince anyone that you're home because you were so 'concerned' about your sister when you didn't even take the time to show up there."

Shelby opened her mouth to defend herself but slowly let it shut. She knew what he was trying to say. She could feel the way he was trying to get a rise out of her. She could tell that he didn't trust her, trying to get her to slip up, attempting to read her. She knew guys like him, was fully aware of their methods. Letting him know that he was getting under her skin wouldn't prove anything and it sure as hell would do more harm than good.

Slowly, she exhaled a deep breath. She met his gaze and gave him a small smile. "While I appreciate your concern, why I may or may not be back in Charming is really none of your business and I really don't care if you believe me or not," she told him, her voice so soft that he had to lean forward to hear. She held his stare for several beats, letting her friendly expression melt into a glare. "So stay the hell away from me," she hissed before shoving past him, bumping him with her shoulder.

Tig watched her go, his finger rubbing over his bottom lip. He couldn't help but be impressed when he saw her throw her leg over a Harley a few spaces down from his. He liked pussy and he liked bikes. Combining the two made his cock stand at attention, especially when the gash was looking like Shelby. He could see how agitated she was as she shoved her helmet over her hair. He could tell by the stiffness of her shoulders that she could feel that he was still watching her, but she refused to meet his gaze as she kick started her bike, speeding off down Main Street.

He couldn't help but be amused that Shelby didn't seem at all intimidated by him. He knew the way people talked about him, how they saw him, some of it earned, most of it not so much. He liked the immediate respect and/or fear it brought him with outsiders. Either Opie hadn't taken the time to mention him or Shelby just didn't care. Generally, that would bother him, that a woman took the time to treat him in such a way that she believed that she were some sort of equal to him. But that sort of confidence made people careless, ensured that they would make some sort of mistake and that's what he was hoping for.

He reached into his cut, pulling out his Marlboros and hitting the pack against his opposite palm. He didn't trust this girl. He'd always trusted his gut, that was how he managed to move into his position as Clay's right hand of force and his gut was telling him that this sister was going to cause trouble for the club, cause change to move into their place in Charming. But until he had any sort of proof, he knew there wasn't much he could do about it… especially if she had Opie backing her.

Tig pulled out a cigarette with his teeth, tucking the pack back into his cut. He pulled out his burner and pressed his speed dial as he lowered his shades back over his eyes, moving the cylinder between his lips from side to side.

"_Yeah, Tig?"_

"Need a favor, Juicy," he replied, making the short walk back to his bike and straddling the seat, cradling the phone on his shoulder as he grabbed his lighter.

"_Can't wait to hear this."_

Tig let out a scoff, lighting the flint and pressing it to the cigarette, taking a deep inhale before pocketing his lighter. "You sound a little skeptical, brother," he replied, a smirk curling over his lips.

"_Always entertaining to find out what you think is 'important. So what do you need? Morgue hours?"_

"Need you to look up some information for me," he told him, blowing a cloud of smoke to the sky.

"_What kinda information?"_

He noted the apprehension in his brother's voice and he bit back the chuckle that threatened to escape as he thought about what Juice could possibly be expecting him to ask. "Need you to find what you can on a Shelby Lerner for me."

"_Shelby Lerner? Who the fuck-"_

"Doesn't matter, just do it," Tig snapped, reaching behind him for his helmet. "Get me the information before Church tonight." He flipped the phone shut before he could get a response and shoved it in his pocket, jamming his helmet over his curls.

* * *

Shelby pulled her Harley into the driveway, cutting the engine. She rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen up the stiffness from the ride. She could still feel her annoyance at Tig brewing just beneath the surface. He made her angry. More than that, he made her nervous. Not so much because of who he was. She recalled that Opie hadn't really said much about the darker man, but she wasn't a fool. She knew what was necessary for a man to do if he was looking to be in the position of Sergeant At Arms in a club like SAMCRO, especially given that it was the mother charter. Not just anyone would be able to fulfill and stomach those duties and anyone that did would have a very specific reputation, especially in a town as small as Charming.

What made her nervous was the way he looked at her, the way it was clear in his crystal eyes that he didn't trust her. She could tell that he was waiting, trying to figure out what she was hiding. And she wasn't stupid. She knew he'd figure out what she'd left behind… know that he was right, she _hadn't _just come home because her sister died. If anything, that was just more than convenient timing...

"Since when do you ride?"

Shelby jerked her head towards Opie's voice in surprise as he walked out of the garage, wiping his hands on an already filthy rag. "Had a boyfriend for awhile that I rode with," she explained, shoving her thoughts away as she pushed herself off the seat and settled her helmet on the back of the bike. "He got tired of a chick backseat driving so he got me this baby." The brunette gave her ride a fond smile as she pushed her sunglasses on top of her head. "He may not have been worth shit, but at least I got this out of the deal," she finished, patting the warm leather seat.

Her brother-in-law stepped forward, his eyes moving over the bike. "Sportster?" he asked, lifting his gaze from the other side of the ride.

Shelby nodded, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "Yup," she replied, popping the 'p' and rocking on her heels.

He raised an eyebrow, tucking his rag in his back pocket. "Pretty nice to be just a gift," he acknowledged.

She let out a small bitter chuckle. "Don't worry, he made sure I earned it."

Opie raised an eyebrow at her vague and somewhat bitter response. He regarded her carefully, sifting through their conversation from the night before, trying to recall her mentioning a boyfriend. Hell, he couldn't even remember her mentioning any people that she had known and as he dug a little deeper, he realized that she hadn't taken the time to even explain where she'd called 'home' for the past decade. She had managed to gloss over any sort of real answer, turning the conversation back to him and what he was going through, what he'd been doing.

He looked her over, trying to determine if her appearance would give him any sort of clues. Her hair was longer, darker than it had been. Her green eyes were deeper, but that may have been the change in her makeup style over ten years. Her body had filled out… gone was the childish softness, replaced by endless curves and angles. He could see smudges of ink peeking out where her shirt rode a little too high, dipped a bit low.

"Hey, so you still haven't told me where you've been all this time," he murmured, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to appear casual.

Shelby swallowed and bit her lip at the question. She glanced at Opie, giving him a shrug. "I told you I've been around, Op," she muttered, shuffling her foot against the asphalt. "Nowhere all that special really."

He let out a grunt of mild disbelief. That answer was too easy, even he knew that. She was hiding something, he could see that now based on her discomfort, the way she was avoiding. Examining her a bit closer, he could tell she had lived a little harder, a bit rougher than he would have expected given the girl that she had been when she left Charming from the bus depot. While she still had the youthful look he could remember and she had obviously grown up over the past decade, there was something else, something more ominous than natural aging just beneath her features. But that made sense, you didn't leave home at 17 with not much more than the clothes on your back and not return without a few battle scars, a couple still healing wounds.

What was beginning to worry him was that she didn't seem to want to _talk _about it. He couldn't get a state, much less a city, of where she had been, who she had been with, how she had survived. She seemed to carry herself with an air eerily similar to the sweetbutts and croweaters that he was surrounded by being a part of SAMCRO. And that was never something he would have wanted for a girl like Shelby. She was better than that, much like Donna had been. His stomach clenched at the reminder of his late wife.

"You haven't just been on the road for a decade, Shel," he argued, feeling frustration bubble just beneath the surface but still attempting to keep it down. "You're trying to tell me you never stopped, you were just constantly moving?"

She cleared her throat, forcing a smile. "Shouldn't Kenny and Ell-"

"God DAMMIT, Shelby!" Opie shouted, finally losing his cool as he reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her lightly. "Stop it and talk to me!"

"Opie, you need to let me go," she told him calmly, her eyes focused on his throat. Her tone sounded practiced and her body language indicated that she had experience with a man's rough handling. If he was honest with himself, that terrified him, especially when he saw the emptiness leak into her eyes.

Slowly, he loosened his grip, letting his hands fall to his sides. He took a step back, his gaze fixed on her. "Shelby, what the hell _happened_ to you?" he quietly asked, a slight plead in his tone.

Shelby swallowed and shook her head, lowering her sunglasses back over her eyes before grabbing her helmet and settling it on her head, tucking her dark waves underneath. "I grew up," she replied with a shrug, before throwing a leg over her bike. "And I stopped waiting," she finished. She kickstarted her bike, the rumble of the engine slicing through the air. She gave him a forced smile. "See you around!" she shouted, her voice barely cutting over the noise before she backed down the driveway and peeled out onto the street.

Opie watched her go, resting his hands on the skullcap covering his hair, lacing his fingers. Part of him told him to go after her, force her to talk to him. But he knew that wouldn't get him anywhere. If Shelby was trying to hide something, he wouldn't be able to get her to open up. She'd always been like that, bottling things until they were forced to come out. The only advantage he had was that she wouldn't be able to hide from him forever… things _always _had a way of coming out.

But Shelby Lerner was clearly hiding something. Something big… maybe even something bad. And given why she left, Opie felt responsible for whatever she'd been forced to go through. He had to find out what had happened to her while she'd been away, no matter how hard she tried to keep it from him.


	4. Black Sheep

**Author's Note: **Here we have Chapter 4. I hope you're still sticking with me. Like I said in the last AN, this is literally a slow burn. Even I'm getting impatient, haha. But I can only go where these guys take me. And they haven't take me to the juicy stuff yet. But I promise it's coming. Thank you to all those who read, reviewed, favorited, alerted. It makes me happy to know that people are interested or intrigued. Not much else to say, so I'll let you get to the chapter. :)

**Disclaimer: **I have no claim to SOA, Opie, Tig, etc. Those rights belong to Kurt Sutter, Ryan Hurst, Kim Coates, etc. But thank you to them for bringing them to my life, ha. 'Madness' belongs to Muse, 'Black Sheep' belongs to Gin Wigmore. All I can truly lay claim to is Shelby.

'_**I'm a bad woman to keep, make me mad, I'm not here to please… paint me in a corner, but my color comes back… once you go black, you never go back… I'm a black sheep...'**_

"Thought you were coming to the clubhouse?"

Tig glanced up from the engine he was working on to see Juice looking at him with a frown, holding a manila folder against his side. "Wanted to finish working on this piece," he replied, gesturing with his chin before standing up straight and wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. "And I told you I'd get the info from you before Church, gave you a couple more hours." He glanced towards the office to see Gemma bent over her desk in concentration, holding her glasses over her eyes. He assumed she was looking over the latest repo list before handing it over to Half Sack and Chibs. Turning back to Juice, he raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't look like much there," he noted, holding out his hand and curling his fingers in a 'gimme' motion.

Juice shrugged, passing him the folder before leaning against the door of the car Tig was working with, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "Not much to find as far as I can tell. She's fairly clean. Couple speeding tickets, few noise complaints, some hospital visits that looked interesting…" He trailed off as the older man sifted through the papers. "She does have a restraining order against a…" He wracked his brain trying to recall the name.

"Bryant Wade," Tig read, his gaze traveling over the letters, his fingers tapping against the paper. He wracked his brain, trying to figure out why it sounded so familiar. His eyes widened as he realized where he'd heard it before. "Holy shit, he was part of Devil's Tribe up in Nevada wasn't he?" he asked, looking back up at Juice. "Mean ass mother fucker… was one of the few that didn't like us patchin' them over. Think I heard he even left his cut behind."

Juice shook his head. "I don't remember him," he admitted. "But can't say I paid that close attention to the ones that left."

Tig racked his brain for a couple moments. "Think the Prospect would know how to get a hold of that sweet Cherry pie of his?" he asked, pawing through the remaining sheets of paper, lingering on a hospital chart. He noted that she had been brought in for fairly serious injuries and recognized the descriptions matching those of victims of abuse.

Juice's mouth twitched. "If he can't, I could probably manage to dig up a number, but why?"

Tig shook his head. "Just a special project, Juicy," he replied, giving him a grin as he flipped the folder shut and settled it on top of his toolbox. "Nothin' to worry that pretty little head of yours about." He reached over rubbing his hand over the mohawk.

The younger biker swatted at him. "Dammit, Tig, what have I told you about touching my hair?"

His retort was cut off as the sound of unfamiliar chopper cut through the air. The two men glanced out of the garage to see a biker they didn't recognize pull up, the engine's sputter mixing with feminine curses before the engine was shut off.

"God fuckin' dammit," the voice carried from beneath the helmet.

Tig and Juice exchanged a look before ducking out to the lot. They approached the bike and Tig couldn't help the grin that spread over his lips as the rider removed the helmet, letting her hair tumble down her back before she pushed herself off the ride with a huff.

"I'm starting to get the feelin' you're following me," he teased, his eyes moving over the machine beneath her.

Shelby glanced up and sneered behind her lenses. "Really? I guess my day just went from bad to worse," she muttered, pushing her sunglasses on top of her head, squinting at him beneath the bright sunlight.

Juice took a step forward. "Engine's not sounding too good there," he commented, cutting his eyes at Tig as he came to recognize the woman in front of him as the one from the photo in his file. "Need us to take a look at it? See what the trouble is?"

She shot him a grateful look. "Please," she replied, gesturing at the Harley. "I'd look at it myself but I haven't had much of a chance and I don't want to risk it, y'know?"

"You know bikes?" Tig asked skeptically, resting a hand on the throttle.

Shelby gave him a smirk. "What, because I don't have a cock swinging between my legs, I can't know bikes?"

Juice snorted back surprised laughter, his eyes wide as he glanced at Tig for his reaction. The man regarded her carefully, sucking at his teeth for a moment. The girl had spunk, he had to give her that. "Might take us a day or two, we're pretty backed up," he finally told her, eyeing her, almost daring her to give him shit.

She let out a sigh, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Seriously? Just to _look _at it? I mean, that's my only transportation," she muttered. She pulled her cell out of her pocket. "Can you give me a second?" she asked, aiming the question at Juice.

"Of course, hon, take your time," he replied, giving her a friendly grin.

Shelby gave him a grateful smile before shooting a dirty look at Tig. She pressed her speed dial and turned to walk a few feet away for the illusion of privacy.

They watched her walk, each man appreciating the view, before Juice shifted his gaze to his brother. "So this is making a lot more sense to me now."

Tig flipped him off. "Not interested in your theories, Juicy," he muttered, ducking back into the garage.

"Not theories, man," the Puerto Rican told him, following after. "I just couldn't figure out why you would be researching some random chick, but I guess she ain't so random, huh?" He glanced back at Shelby, his eyes scanning over her carefully. "And she's not liking you much, now is she?" He snagged the folder up and flipped it open. "Why the interest?" he pressed, skimming over the top page.

"Just keepin' track of our Charming visitors," he replied, tossing the rag to the side and grabbing a wrench.

Juice let out a snort, snapping the folder shut and settling it back on the toolbox. "Oh yeah, that's Tig Trager, our very own Charming Welcoming Committee," he joked.

"For the sake of tourism, I hope that's you being funny."

The two men glanced up to see Shelby leaning against the door of the garage, her phone gripped in her hand as she bounced her arm off her thigh. Tig couldn't help but grit his teeth as he noticed Juice's smirk out of the corner of his eye.

"Everything figured out for you?" the Puerto Rican asked before his older counterpart could make a snide remark.

Shelby sighed. "I think so, I just needed to be sure I could get a ride." She glanced back at her bike. "Any idea what kinda time I'm looking at being bike-less?" she asked.

Juice looked at Tig. "What are you thinking?"

His mouth twitched. "Well, it's gonna be me or Opie that looks at it." He bit back a snort at the way the girl's body jerked at Opie's name, her attention seeming to zero in. "Depends what else we're workin' on."

"There's really no one else?" she asked, a slight whine to her tone.

Tig snorted. "Not unless you want someone to fuck your shit up worse," he replied matter-of-factly.

Juice couldn't help but grin at the tension in the garage. He always loved watching Tig get worked up for whatever reason, as long as it wasn't aimed in his direction. "C'mon, hon," he told her, resting a hand on her lower back. "Let me take you to the office so Gemma can get your information, alright?"

Tig watched as the Puerto Rican guided her out the bay door to make the short walk towards the office. He narrowed his eyes, watching her hips as they switched. Yeah, that girl was gonna be fuckin' trouble alright. He snagged the folder up and tucked it in the back of his pants before turning back to the engine, mumbling under his breath.

* * *

Shelby could feel her stomach bunching in nerves as she was guided towards the office of the shop. The walk seemed to be taking forever and going much too quickly all at the same time. She hadn't seen Gemma Teller-Morrow since she had left Charming and even _that _didn't seem long enough. The woman had always terrified her, even as a small child. She had such an air about her, carried herself in a way that let everyone know she wasn't one to be screwed with…

"You alright? You look a little pale."

She turned towards the man beside her and forced a smile. "I'm okay, just not looking forward to being without my bike for awhile." She glanced across the lot at the row of parked motorcycles. "I'm sure you know what that's like."

He nodded and gave her a grin. "Always sucks to be without your ride," he agreed. "I'm Juice, by the way," he introduced. "Should probably stop being rude."

Shelby gave him a sly smile, thankful for the easy conversation. "Your crew doesn't seem to have an abundance of manners," she admitted.

He let out a laugh, his hand resting on the handle of the door. "Somehow I think your opinion rests on the shoulders of just one member," he teased, pushing the door open. "Shouldn't generalize or pass judgment on the rest of us, just isn't fair."

She opened her mouth to reply but felt like she was punched in the gut as Gemma's eyes lifted to meet hers.

"Well," the older woman greeted, standing up straight and moving her glasses down the bridge of her nose. "I was wondering when we'd see you around here, baby." She gave the brunette an expression that could be considered a smile, but there was no warmth or welcome to be found.

Shelby swallowed, the corners of her own mouth lifting to give a nervous smile. She cleared her throat. "Hi, Gem-I mean, Mrs. Morrow," she murmured, her voice cracking as she corrected herself. She felt Juice's look of surprise settle on her but she refused to meet his gaze, keeping her attention on the woman before her. "I just need to drop off my bike and I was told you needed to get my info?"

Gemma arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her hand grabbing a form and a pen. "Have a seat." She looked past to Juice at the door. "Don't you have some work to do yourself?"

He gave her a grin. "Just making sure I got our customer to you safely," he replied. "If you have it all handled, I'll get back to work." He slipped out the door before anyone could say anything else.

Shelby felt her stomach flip as Gemma's eyes and attention settled back on her again. She carefully took the paperwork and pen that was being offered to her with slightly shaky hands. "Thank you," she murmured, moving the items to her lap.

She could feel eyes on her as she wrote carefully, willing herself to be calm. They always said that predators could smell fear and she could only imagine what Gemma was getting a whiff of the longer they sat across from one another.

"So what brings you back?" the older woman asked, breaking the suffocating silence. She crossed her legs at the knee and leaned back in her seat, folding her hands at her chest.

Shelby cleared her throat and glanced up, forcing another smile. "My sister," she replied, her voice quiet. "Figured I should come back, see what needs to be done… especially since our parents…" She trailed off and gave a shrug before dropping her gaze back to the paper, the words blurring before her.

Gemma nodded slowly, tenting her fingers under her chin. "Was a bit surprised we didn't see you after Roland and Betty passed last year," she admitted, her jaw setting. "Not sure why you decided to come back now and not then. Would've made a hell of a lot more sense."

The brunette cleared her throat and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back the burn of tears. She couldn't cry in front of a woman like this, no matter how much she might want to. She took a ragged breath and met Gemma's stony gaze again. "Donna wouldn't have wanted me there… I stayed away for her. Made it easier..."

The other woman scoffed. "I can't imagine you've done _anything_ in your life that wasn't selfish, so why would you have started then?" She took the paper and scanned it before sliding it to the table. "You're all set." She stood up and motioned for the door. "You'll get a call when the bike is ready. We're done here."

Shelby stood and exhaled a breath at the dismissal. "I know you aren't all that fond of me, but don't pretend you know me either," she told her, feeling as though her heart was going to beat out of her chest.

Gemma's brow arched and a smirk pulled at her mouth. "Kitten trying to tell me she has claws?"

The younger girl shook her head. "I would never dream of being disrespectful towards you… I just think you should make opinions based on fact rather than what you believe to be gut. Especially considering how much time has passed."

She narrowed her eyes. "My gut's never proven me wrong, baby. And it's always told me that if you're around, trouble ain't far behind."

Shelby swallowed and nodded slowly. "I'm sorry you feel that way… but unfortunately, I have no plans to go anywhere. So I guess you're just going to have to get used to me." She held her breath as she quickly turned on her heel and walked out the door, feeling Gemma's eyes burning into her back.


	5. Say When

**Author's Note: **And onto chapter 5… I wanna start off by thanking anyone who's favorited, followed, or reviewed so far. I especially wanna thank **Valerie E. Mackin, mrsreedus69, OnTheWildside** because they took the time to review. I do appreciate it. Anyways… this story is a much slower build than I'm used to… I hope that you're sticking with me and not getting bored, haha. I know where I'm planning and wanting to go, it's just a matter of getting there. But this chapter kinda continues to set the stage and I feel like it also gives a little more of an idea where the gentlemen stand at this point and positions them appropriately. We'll see. Hope you enjoy! And I'll go work on chapter 6 so there isn't the same sort of wait (I hope…).

**Disclaimer: **I have no claim to SOA, Opie, Tig, etc. Those rights belong to Kurt Sutter, Ryan Hurst, Kim Coates, etc. But thank you to them for bringing them to my life, ha. 'Madness' belongs to Muse, 'Say When' belongs to The Fray. All I can truly lay claim to is Shelby.

**_'You're in the song playing on the background, all alone, but you're turning up now… and everyone is rising to meet you, to greet you...'_**

Tig leaned against the wall in the bay door of the garage, watching as Shelby stepped out of the office, hurrying away from the door. Even from a distance he could note the stiffness across her shoulders and the pallor in her cheeks. He hit the wrench in his hand against his opposite palm rhythmically and left out a chuckle as he contemplated what sort of wringer Gemma had put the girl through. "You alright there, sweetheart?" he called.

She looked up, her eyes wide. "You trying to tell me you care?" she shot back, wiping her palms on her jeans.

He grinned at her, spinning the wrench in his hand. He shoved himself off the building and approached, his grin widening as she seemed to wind up tighter and tighter the closer he got. "You all filled out?" he asked, stopping a few feet in front of her, tucking the wrench in his pocket and slipping his thumbs through his belt loops, his fingers framing his zipper.

She licked her lips and narrowed her eyes, keeping their gazes locked, avoiding where he was attempting to draw her attention. "If you're referring to my paperwork, then yes," she replied.

Tig's own eyes widened in faux innocence as he rested a hand on his chest, the metal of his rings catching the sunlight. "And what else would I be referrin' to, doll?"

Shelby rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "How long is my bike gonna take, you think?" she asked, changing the subject.

He gave her a shrug, scratching the back of his head. "Takes as long as it takes," he replied easily. "We'll give you a call when it's done."

She let out a groan and tipped her head back. The sound and motion made Tig's jeans seem just a bit tighter, his imagination roaming to what it would be like if she made the sound with less clothing and on top of him. "Are you going to financially gouge me while you're at it? Because I only have so much money these days…"

"Depends on the damage, sweetheart, but I promise we'll attempt to be gentle," he replied, giving her a wink. "And if not, we can always make... other sorts of arrangements."

Shelby gave him a faux smile as a black Audi peeled into the lot. "And here I thought this was an establishment with some class. Can you at least give me a call after you look at it, let me know if I need to rent a car or something?"

Tig's eyes followed the car as it pulled up beside them, the onyx paint shimmering in the sunlight. "I'll put you at the top of my list, doll," he told her, his blue eyes flashing back to hers.

The driver's side door flew open and a statuesque blonde unfolded herself from the seat. "You ready to go?" she asked, sidling up to Shelby, her heavily mascaraed eyes scanning over the biker. He felt his cock stand at attention at the sudden idea of these two together, all tangled, sweaty limbs and heavy breathing, Shelby making those soft moans he was sure would float through his mind later.

The brunette let out a sigh breaking into his reverie. "I guess," she murmured, looking longingly at her bike. She shifted her gaze, locking her gaze with Tig's before lowering her sunglasses over her eyes. "Take care of her," she snarled. "Or at least remember to tell Opie who's bike he's working on."

"Be nice," the blonde muttered into Shelby's ear, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

The brunette grumbled under her breath as she walked around the car and yanked open the door, sliding into the passenger seat. Tig could have sworn he felt the ground shake when she slammed the door with more force than necessary.

The blonde let her gaze travel over Tig one last time before she slithered back into her car, the sleek vehicle making its' way out of the lot.

"That's one of Luann's girls."

Tig turned to see Gemma close behind him, a few papers in her hands. "The blonde? Thought she looked familiar," he replied, scratching the back of his neck.

"Typical company I'd imagine Shelby to keep, but I never would've thought that girl would be a rug muncher," she continued absently, stepping up beside him.

He couldn't help the grin that spread over his face. "Ain't nothin' wrong with two ladies appreciating each others' finer qualities," he told her, slipping his arm around her shoulders. "Especially if I get to watch."

Gemma rolled her eyes. "Typical man," she muttered, nudging him lightly. "Overheard you talking to Juice earlier."

Tig let out a groan. "Dammit, Gem, I can't-"

She cut him off with a look. "I'm not sure what you're playing at Tigger, but you need to be careful with girls like that," she warned. "You know that from experience."

He shook his head. "Don't worry, mama, I'm just trying to figure out what she's doing back in Charming, that's all. Same thing that I know you're doin'."

Gemma scoffed. "I think our methods to these things tend to be just a touch different, sweetheart," she replied. "Just see if you can try to keep that cock of yours in your pants, baby…You don't need her kinda trouble, whatever it may be." A bike pulled into the lot and the pair of them recognized Opie as he backed his chopper in the line. She glanced at Tig and shook her head. "Especially if it's going to throw some of the other boys in the mix." She didn't wait for a response before she made her way back to the office, stopping to give the younger biker a quick hug and kiss on the cheek.

Tig chewed the inside of his cheek, watching Opie carefully. He noticed that the kid looked a little lighter in his step since Donna's death and now that Shelby was back in town. He was never the happy-go-lucky sort, (really, which one of them was, living the way they did?) but even Tig had to acknowledge the change in the guy's demeanor.

"Is that Shelby's ride?"

Tig followed Opie's gaze to the Sportster. "Yeah, you just missed the gash actually."

The taller man shot Tig a look. "Don't call her that," he warned, letting his eyes travel back to the bike. "We know what's wrong?"

Tig shook his head, watching as Opie approached the machine, his eyes travelling over it. "Haven't had a chance to look at it, but I'm thinkin' the engine may be shot. I was gonna probably work with it tonight, see what I could figure out."

"I can take care of it," he argued, shaking his head. "Should really get back into the swing and I know Shel would trust me with it."

Tig felt a tingle in his fist and the urge to knock the wrench in his pocket over the side of Opie's head, but he couldn't pinpoint where the feeling came from. It wasn't like he knew Shelby and really, he wasn't sure he wanted to considering… he just wanted to protect his club. "You sure man? I don't mind putting her in my rotation."

He noticed the way the younger man raised an eyebrow at the choice of words. "Nah, 'preciate it, but it's fine, she'd want me to take care of her," he replied, and Tig could hear the warning continuing to simmer under his words.

The two stared each other down. Tig could see Opie scanning him, trying to figure out what he may want with Shelby, what angle he was coming from. He could see that the man didn't trust him and there was a note of concern of in his expression, concern for what could happen to Shelby if Tig got close at all. The older man really had no desire to hurt the girl unless it was forced to come to that. He'd always protect the club, no matter who got hurt in the process… he internally winced when he realized that's why Donna had met the fate she did… Not that Opie needed to know that part...

"There a problem here?"

They looked up to see Juice looking between them. "Nah," Tig replied, his blue eyes moving to Opie, a slightly crazed grin pulling at his mouth. "No problem at all."

Opie's eyes tightened, but he nodded an agreement. "We're good, I was just checkin' in. Guess we're done." He didn't wait for a reply from either man as he shouldered his way past Tig and made his way into the clubhouse.

Juice raised an eyebrow. "Seemed a little tense," he pointed out, resting his foot against the wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

The darker man shook his head, running a hand over the handlebars of Shelby's bike. "We were just talkin' about this beauty here."

The Puerto Rican chuckled, rubbing his palm over the tattoo on his head. "You referring to the bike or the owner?"

Tig looked up, meeting his eyes, his fingers curling around the throttle. "I'll have to let you know."

* * *

"Sack, get me a shot," Opie requested, resting his palms on top of the bar.

Piney glanced up from his bottle of Patron. "Little early for you, isn't it?"

The younger Winston scoffed, settling on the stool next to his father. "Must get it from my old man," he quipped, snatching up the shot that the Prospect set in front of him and draining it.

Piney took a drag from his straw, his other hand fiddling with his oxygen tank. "You did get most of my finer qualities," he growled, patting his son on the back. "What's on your mind? You didn't need to stop by for a couple hours yet."

Opie gave a shrug under his cut. "We could be here awhile if you wanna start sifting through what I may or may not be thinking," he admitted, nodding to Half Sack to pour him another shot.

Piney rested a hand on his boy's shoulder. "You're goin' through a lot son, more than you should have to." He gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before lowering his hand back to his oxygen. "Heard Shelby Lerner's back in town."

Opie coughed, choking on the liquor that he had been about to swallow. He glanced over at his father in surprise. "Didn't know you were into gossiping about chicks, Pop," he remarked.

"You know I've always liked Shelby, the little spitfire she was," he replied fondly, a smile pulling at his chapped lips.

The younger man shook his head. "She ain't so little anymore, Pop, I gotta tell you."

Piney eyed his son carefully, watching as he turned the refilled shot glass between his hands. "Whatever you're thinkin' boy, I'd stop if I were you," he told him, his tone low and gruff.

Opie swallowed and shook his head. "Not really thinkin' anything," he muttered, lifting the shot glass and pouring liquor down his throat, welcoming the burn.

"That girl isn't going to replace Donna, no matter how much blood they share," Piney told him, shaking his head.

The man shook his head as his father's words absorbed into his brain. He wasn't looking to replace Donna. His late wife was irreplaceable, he knew that. But it was nice to have someone around that knew Donna the way he did, even if she had been gone for as long as she had. He knew that Shelby had regrets when it came to her sister, the same way he did. He would be able to talk to the girl in a way that he really couldn't talk to anyone else. It didn't mean he was trying to move Shelby into Donna's place, treat her as though she were just a stand in.

"I know how you've always felt about her, son," Piney broke into his thoughts, his voice gentle. "And I know how she felt and may still feel about you. You need to be careful with that, be fair to her and yourself."

Opie let out a humorless chuckle. "And just what do you think I'm gonna do, Pop?"

"I'm not sure," the older man admitted shaking his head. "Which is why I think you need this warning now."

* * *

Juice's fingers moved over the keyboard faster than Tig was comfortable. "You really know what you're doing, don't you?" the older man asked, feeling a bit dizzy at the sound of the clicking.

The Puerto Rican chuckled. "You should've taken a typing class or two old man," he teased, his eyes still on the screen. His hands stopped, hovering over the keyboard before his right clicked the mouse. "Here we go," he murmured, pulling up a page.

Tig peered over his shoulder. "You found her?"

Juice clicked the printer icon, the machine coming to life at their left. "As if there was any doubt?" he countered. "She wasn't all that hard to find, I'm actually disappointed you didn't give me more of a challenge." He pulled the still warm paper off the printer and held it out.

The curly haired man snatched the sheet away, his eyes moving over the type and picture. "I'll try harder next time." He folded the paper and shoved it into his back pocket before cracking his neck. "And remember-"

Juice rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I know, I know," he interjected. "Keep this between us for now."

Tig gave him a grin. "You learn fast, Juicy." He gave him a nod as he backed towards the door. "See you in an hour."

He stepped into the hallway, pulling the door shut tight behind him. He really hated that he had to get Juice involved in his research, but he didn't have much of a choice. He didn't know jack about computers and he wasn't about to start when he could just get someone to do his dirty work for him. He made the short walk to his room, kicking the door shut behind him before turning the lock.

Tig slipped the paper out of his pocket before sitting on the edge of the bed, his other hand reaching for his phone. He keyed in a phone number and lifted the plastic to his ear.

"Mornin', Ashby's…"

A grin spread over Tig's face at the accent on the other end. "Top o' the mornin' to you, doll. Is Rita available?"


	6. Basic Space

**Author's Note: **Hello again... miss me? Here's chapter 6... still a slow burn... I think there's one more chapter of "build" before things really get going. I don't wanna have them jump into anything, y'know? So, I appreciate you hanging in there with me. Thank you, as always, to those that have favorited, followed, reviewed... It means a lot and does help inspire to know that people are still reading and enjoying this. Especially big thank yous and hugs to **Valerie E. Mackin, mrsreedus69, OnTheWildside** for reviewing. You girls ruleeeeeee! Alright, enough of my babbling. Onto the story...

**Disclaimer: **I have no claim to SOA, Opie, Tig, etc. Those rights belong to Kurt Sutter, Ryan Hurst, Kim Coates, etc. But thank you to them for bringing them to my life, ha. 'Madness' belongs to Muse, 'Basic Space' belongs to The xx. All I can truly lay claim to is Shelby.

'_**I'll take you in pieces, we can take it all apart… I've suffered shipwrecks right from the start… I've been underwater, breathing out and in… I think I'm losing where you end and I begin...'**_

"Fuckin' piece of shit," Opie growled, hitting his wrench against the tank of the bike.

"I'm sure Shelby will be thrilled that you left scratches on her piece."

He lifted his head to see Tig in the doorway of the garage, lifting a chipped mug of coffee to his mouth. "Fuck you, Tig," he muttered, pushing himself to his feet and shoving the tool in his belt. "Looks like she hasn't been maintaining this thing."

The older man drained what was left of his cup, setting it on a shelf beside him before approaching, wiping his hands on his thighs. He glanced over the machine and grimaced. "This is why you don't give bitches bikes," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair before crouching to look a little closer.

Opie scowled at his brother's assessment and dismissal of Shelby, but he bit his tongue. If they had been discussing anyone else, he probably would have voiced his agreement. Her fuel lines were clogged with shit beyond any sort of repair and would need to be replaced and he was disappointed that she had let such a nice ride go the way she did.

But that didn't mean he liked Tig being so disrespectful towards Shelby. Especially when he didn't know her. "Any way to get around replacement, y'think?" he finally asked as the man stood to his full height.

The older man shot him a look. "What do you think?" he replied.

Opie sighed. "Thought as much." He pulled a rag out of his back pocket and started wiping the grease off his hands. "What are you doing here so early, anyway? You're not on the schedule til this afternoon, right?"

Tig internally grimaced at the question, though he'd known it was going to come up. While it wasn't impossible for him to force himself into the sunshine and roll into the shop when he wasn't on the schedule, it was a rarity. Especially on a Saturday. Opie was more than aware of his habits, especially since they tended to be on similar pieces. He'd held out hope that the younger man would have started back to work the next day, but he should've known better. "Had the same idea as you, thought I'd take a closer look at the bike. Figured I'd have the time."

The younger biker raised an eyebrow, picking up the wrench. "Told you I'd take care of it," he replied, tossing the rag to the side. "Your mind goin', old man?"

Tig scowled at the teasing. "Ain't old, brother, just _seasoned_," he retorted. His eyes moved over the bike one last time before he shrugged. "Well, if you got it taken care of, I'm gonna go have a beer. Maybe a shot."

Opie let out a snort. "Alcohol and coffee, breakfast of champions," he quipped.

The darker man gave him a mock salute before tucking his hand into his pocket and making his way across the lot towards the clubhouse.

Opie watched him go, absently twisting the wrench between his palms. He couldn't help the worry that was gnawing in the back of his mind. Tig never offered to take on specific pieces and he sure as hell didn't take the time to look at anything he wasn't assigned. Whatever was in front of him, that was the vehicle he worked with. He rarely associated with the actual customers and if he couldn't avoid, he was everything but civil. The fact that the older man was so interested in Shelby's bike, enough to even know it was hers… it made him really uneasy and even more concerned for his sister-in-law.

He gave his head a shake. He was overthinking it. There was really no reason for Tig to be overly interested in Shelby. He must've just been interested in the piece. He let out a sigh before crouching down to see if he could manage to salvage anything on the bike.

* * *

Tig shoved his way into the clubhouse, rubbing a hand over his face before letting his eyes adjust to the dimly lit room. He hadn't been kidding, he needed a fuckin' drink if he was going to manage to get through this day if Opie was going to be hovering.

"Tig."

He glanced over his shoulder at Juice's voice as he reached over the bar to grab a bottle of liquor. "Not now, Juicy," he muttered, twisting off the top and taking a swallow.

The Puerto Rican rolled his eyes as he hopped on a stool beside the older man. "You're getting too old for these late nights," he replied, a grin pulling at his mouth. "Little hair of the dog going to help?"

Tig scowled, leaning his back against the bar, his elbows resting on either side of him. "There a reason you're bothering me this early?"

Juice shrugged, pulling his leg up under him. "Professional curiosity. Wondering how the information I pulled for you is working out."

The scowl deepened at the younger man's question. His phone call to Cherry had been an absolute wash. Based on her quick answers and brush offs it had been clear she knew _something_, but he only had so many resources that he could use to make her talk. Since he was trying to keep his 'research' on the low, it wasn't like he could make too many weighted threats. He had thrown Sack's name around more than necessary, but she still hadn't taken the bait. Most likely because she _knew_ he didn't have the means to back himself up in his current situation. "None of your concern, man," he replied, knocking the bottle against his hip.

Juice rolled his eyes. "None of my concern til you need me to look up something, right?"

Tig took another swallow of liquor before setting the bottle back on the bar. "You feelin' used, brother?"

He received an eyeroll in response. "I mean, it wouldn't kill you to show your appreciation, would it?"

"Appreciation?" Tig scoffed and settled the bottle of liquor on the bar before he grabbed his crotch. "That offer to let me dip my balls in your mouth is always open. Maybe that'll help, take the edge off for us both."

Juice scowled and hopped off the stool. "Screw you, brother, why do you do that shit?" He didn't wait for a response before stalking back to his dorm.

The darker man chuckled, adjusting himself before taking another swig. Sometimes these guys were just too fucking easy.

* * *

"Opie."

He glanced up from the bike to see Gemma walking toward him, a paper in her hand. "What's up, Gem?" he asked quietly, pushing himself to his feet. He noticed she looked hesitant, maybe even apprehensive, which were two things that Gemma Teller-Morrow didn't often convey. "What's wrong?"

She reached up, pulling her glasses off her nose. "What's going on with Shelby?" she asked gently.

His brow furrowed at the unexpected question. "What do you mean?" he asked, settling his wrench to the side.

Gemma regarded him carefully, her eyes on his face, concern obvious in her expression. "I mean, you've been spending a lot of time with her, baby," she explained.

Opie shook his head, scratching his neck. "I'm not Jax, Gemma," he reminded her. "I don't need you to take care of me."

She chuckled. "You've been through a hell of a lot and that makes people make mistakes," she continued, leaning her hip against the shelving behind her. "And I don't want to see that for you. You may not be my son, but I love you enough to not want to see you get hurt. Just like I love all my boys."

He scoffed. "I do appreciate you looking out for me, but it's not like that with Shelby," he assured her, snagging a rag from his back pocket and running it over the tank of the bike. "She's just… helping me through."

Gemma couldn't help the quiet snort that escaped. "She seems like she'd be good at that," she muttered.

Opie sighed. "How about you just tell me what you came out here to say?" he asked.

The older woman held out the paper to him. "See for yourself," she replied.

He shot her a confused look, his fingers closing on the document. He moved it to his eyeline, skimming it quickly, his brow furrowing with confusion. He glanced up at Gemma. "So, it's not hers?" he asked, though he knew the answer.

"It's not her name on the title and it's listed as stolen," she replied. "So, I'd say no… and you know we can't work on stolen property. Really, you've probably done more than we really should." She gently patted his shoulder, pressing her lips to his temple. "Think it would be best to get the bike back to her and send her back where she came, don't you?" She didn't wait for a response before heading back to the office.

Opie frowned, his eyes moving over the paper at a slower speed, soaking up the information. She'd lied to him. But, she had to know he was going to find out, had to know they would run her information… she wasn't that stupid to think she could hide it. But why would she steal? What the hell was going on?

* * *

"_Billy Mays here-"_

"_It's Jake from St-"_

"_On the next Days-"_

Shelby let out a grunt, switching off the television and tossing the remote onto the coffee table. She was getting so restless and her bike had been gone less than a day. She was stuck on Amber's couch, mooching off the porn star until she could figure her next move. She hated this, hated depending on other people.

The brunette looked at her phone for what must have been the thousandth time. Still no call from TM. She grit her teeth, her fingers clenching around the hard plastic. She felt like a sitting duck without her bike. She didn't have any plans to move on, but she also didn't like not having the easy get away if she found she had no other choice.

Shelby glanced up at the sound of a quiet knock at the door, her brow furrowed in confusion. Most people Amber knew were in the business… they'd know she was on set. The girl felt a knot form in her stomach. Maybe they were there for her…

"Shelby? You in there?"

She let out a sigh of relief at the sound of Opie's voice. She shoved herself off the couch, moving to the door and pulling it open, a smile on her lips. "Yeah, hey… I didn't expect a personal visit."

He forced a smile in response. "Mind if I come in for a bit?"

The brunette glanced past him to see her bike on the back of the tow truck. "Sure… my ride's done that fast?" she asked, moving to the side to let him in.

Opie cleared his throat, stepping into the house, letting her close the door behind him. "Not quite," he replied quietly, shaking his head.

Shelby couldn't help but frown. "Op, what is it?" she asked, settling her hand on his bicep.

He glanced at her hand before lifting his head to meet her gaze. She felt her stomach drop at his expression. Oh, God… did he know…?

"Gemma ran your bike… we have to do that with every piece that comes in," he explained, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed tight over his chest. "Procedure, just to be sure everything's on the up, y'know?'

The brunette felt her stomach drop at the explanation and the look in his eye. "Okay… so?"

Opie furrowed his brow. "That's not your bike, is it?" he asked, his voice soft, but she could hear the frustration laced in his tone, the possible fury that was brewing.

Shelby swallowed. "I told you, it was a gift," she murmured, sinking onto the couch, her back against the arm.

He scowled, his eyes narrowed. "Then why was it reported stolen less than three days before you showed up in Charming? Reported by the same guy who has his name on the title?"

"Guess he didn't like that I wanted to take a trip out to Charming," she replied, shrugging her slender shoulders, her nails absently picking at a ball of lint on the couch. She lifted her gaze to meet Opie's. "I'm not a thief, Op, and I'm not dumb enough to let you find out something like that in such a way."

He regarded her carefully, trying to gauge if she was being honest with him. He wanted to believe her, didn't want to believe that she would be so careless. But her answers were too easy. He opened his mouth to argue but was cut off as his phone went off in his pocket.

Shelby watched as Opie lifted his phone to his ear. She chewed on her lower lip, her gaze focused, but her thoughts elsewhere. She could see he was struggling, trying to decide what to believe. She didn't want to lie to him. She'd thought she had more time before Bryant would have realized she was gone, time to get the bike fixed, settle back in so she'd have protection. She should have known better than to trust that sort of luck.

Opie pocketed his phone, wiping his palms on his denim clad thighs. "I have to get back to TM," he told her. "But I want us to talk later… you around tonight?"

Shelby shrugged. "I assume that the bike isn't taken care of, so I really have nowhere I can go," she replied, trying to keep her tone light. "So, if you're willing to come by, I should be available."

He moved across the room carefully, stopping in front of her to crouch down to eye level. "Are you in trouble?" he asked, his hands resting on her knees, his eyes searching her expression. "You don't have to give me any details, but I need to know if you need help."

Her jaw set as they stared at each other. Shelby wanted to tell him everything, but she wasn't ready… she probably wouldn't ever be ready. She didn't know how Opie would take it and she couldn't be the one to pile on him, not so soon after Donna… "I'm fine, Opie," she reassured him, resting a hand on his cheek and giving him a forced smile. "I promise you that everything is okay… it's just a misunderstanding."

He didn't believe her. His gut told him he couldn't believe what she was telling him. But he knew he couldn't force anything out of her. He let out a quiet sigh before leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. He pulled her into a hug, crushing her slight form to him. "Okay," he whispered, his face pressed to her hair. He slowly let go of her and moved to his full height. "I'll call you before I come pick you up… we'll get some dinner, okay?"

Shelby nodded. "Looking forward to it," she replied. They shared one last smile before he made his way out of the house.

* * *

Tig watched Opie drive off after moving the bike off the truck. He frowned behind his sunglasses, drumming his fingers on the handlebars of his Dyna, his eyes shifting over towards the house.

He hadn't been able to help his curiosity when he'd noticed the younger man loading the bike up, knowing there was no way that the piece had been finished, not with the damages to the extent they had been. That could only mean one of two things… either the man had given up hope of repair or he wasn't able to work on it due to whatever Gemma had pulled up on the vehicle. Due to Opie's fascination and ties to the girl, he could only assume the latter and why he had stayed in the house.

He hadn't intended to stay and wait. He'd only wanted to find out where the girl was staying, just in case he needed to keep an eye on her. But he hadn't been able to bring himself to leave, not right away.

Tig perked up as Shelby appeared in the doorway, slowly making her way down the sidewalk. She stopped beside the bike, her back to him. He noted the tension in her frame, the tightness in her fists as she curled her fingers into her palms. His eyebrow raised as a yell cut through the air and her foot slammed into the bike, making it topple to the side. She fell to the ground, her face cradled in her hands and even from his distance he could hear the angry sobs as they tore from her throat.

"What are you hiding, little girl?" he muttered, leaning forward on his bike, still watching intently. "What's gotcha so angry?"


	7. Love, Money, Party

**Author's Note: **Well, I didn't expect to post 7 so quickly, but it came pretty easily, so why not? I think I'm just ready to get to chapter 8 (which I should stop building up to prevent possible disappointment). Anyway, not much to say, so thank you as always to all of you that read, favorited, followed, reviewed... special thanks to **mrsreedus69, OnTheWildside** for taking the time to post a review. Always nice to read kind words. :) Onward...

**Disclaimer: **I have no claim to SOA, Opie, Tig, etc. Those rights belong to Kurt Sutter, Ryan Hurst, Kim Coates, etc. But thank you to them for bringing them to my life, ha. 'Madness' belongs to Muse, 'Love, Money, Party' is Miley Cyrus (it's the lyrics, _okay_?). All I can truly lay claim to is Shelby.

'_**Money ain't nothin' but money, when you get to the money, ain't nothin' but money… love ain't nothin' but love, when you learn how to love, ain't nothin' but love… party ain't nothin' but a party, when you party everyday, ain't nothin' but a party… love, money, party...'**_

"Remember when we snuck all that beer into the house? And we had to dump it when my parents came home early?"

Opie threw back his head and laughed at the memory, his chuckles coming stronger at the sound of Shelby's giggles. "I thought your dad was going to kill me when he found the cans in the trash…"

The brunette grinned, handing him a fresh beer before sitting on the couch next to him. "I had to give you and Donna an appropriate engagement celebration," she pointed out, taking a swallow of her own brew.

He shot her a skeptical look, trying to ignore the ache he felt at his late wife's name. "I still don't know how you got your hands on 12 cases of PBR at 16," he replied.

Shelby grinned and pointed at her chest. "I had a rack and I wasn't afraid to use it."

Opie cleared his throat, forcing his eyes to stay on her face. "I guess that would come in useful."

She rested her temple against the couch cushion, her body turned towards Opie. "I missed Charming," she admitted, her nails picking at the label of her bottle.

He nodded, staring down at his own drink. "Charming missed you," he replied, his voice quiet. He had intended to pick her up, take her to dinner, and find a way to force her to tell him what was going on with her, answer his questions. But those plans had gone by the wayside when she'd been behind him on his bike, her arms wrapped around his waist, her cheek resting on his back as he seemed to automatically find himself driving towards his own home.

It had been a long time since he'd had a woman on the back of his bike. Really, probably before he'd been sent to Chino State. Donna hadn't been on the bike since he'd been back. He figured the machine served as a painful reminder as to why he'd been gone for five years.

But he loved having a woman on his bike… the trust they were putting in him, the control he had as he took turns, the powerful metal between his thighs. And having the woman be Shelby seemed to be even more right than it should have been.

"Did _you _miss me?"

Opie's gaze shifted as Shelby's soft voice broke through his thoughts. Her green eyes were cast downward, focusing on the couch cushion between them. He had missed her… more than he probably should have given their history. He'd kept it quiet, hadn't mentioned her name in years, knowing the memories would upset Donna… but that didn't change that he thought about the younger Lerner sister almost daily… even more when he'd been stuck with only his own thoughts during his prison stay.

Cautiously, Opie reached out, wrapping an arm around the brunette to pull her to his side, letting her head rest against his chest. "Everyday," he finally replied, laying his cheek on the top of her head. "Missed you every Goddamn day…"

Shelby let out a quiet sigh, letting her eyes slip shut as she let herself almost melt into Opie's embrace. She felt tears burn beneath her eyelids as his hand gently moved over her back. She tried not to let his words affect her, knowing he didn't realize how much she wanted and needed to hear them. She knew he didn't understand that it was more than just a sibling love for her, even after all this time. She loved Opie, always had… Even though he hadn't been able to return it, she had loved him. As much as she wanted him to want her back, she knew it wasn't the time, that Donna's death was still fresh for him. Really, at the end of the day, he'd chosen Donna over her before… what was to say he wouldn't choose her sister's memory?

"What are you thinking?"

Her eyes slowly opened, focusing across the room. Did she tell him? Did she take that risk, lay everything on the line?

She moved to sit up, only inches separating them as she looked down at him, his head resting against the cushion as he stared back at her. She opened her mouth to reply, her stomach in her throat. Before she could reply, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, interrupting the moment.

"Just a second," she murmured, reaching into her pocket and pulling her phone out. She glanced down at the screen and frowned when she didn't recognize the number.

"Everything alright?" he asked, shifting his body towards her.

She glanced up and forced a smile. "Yeah, everything's good… you mind if I take this?" she asked, lifting the phone. "I just wanna make sure everything's okay?"

He waved her off, taking a pull from his beer. "Take your time, I'll be here."

The brunette nodded, lifting her body from the couch. She moved down the hallway before pressing a button and lifting the plastic to her ear. "Hello?" she asked cautiously, her voice low.

"_Sup bitch?" _the voice on the other end greeted.

Shelby's eyes widened as she recognized the rasp. "Omigod, _Cherry_? Is that _you_?"

She received a scoff in response. _"Of course it's me, who else would call you that?"_

Shelby ducked into the bathroom, gently shutting the door behind her. "I can't believe you're calling me… I didn't think I'd ever hear from you after everything."

"_Well, I wish I could say this was just a social call, but it's a little more dire."_

She slowly sat down on the toilet seat, her elbows resting on her knees. "What's wrong?"

"_Are you in Charming?"_

Shelby hesitated. How the hell would Cherry know that? "Yeah, I am actually… My sister, Donna, she was… well, she was killed… thought I should come home… plus… well, you saw how Bryant was before you left… and really, it only got worse."

Cherry let out a frustrated sigh. _"I was afraid you would say that… Do you happen to know a Tig?"_

She stiffened at the name. "Why?" she asked suspiciously, her eyes narrowed.

"_He called me... had a lot of questions about you…"_

Shelby grit her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. "Did you tell him anything?" she asked quietly, pinching the bridge of her nose between her first two fingers.

Cherry let out a scoff. _"Of course not. I know better than that and except for maybe Sack, it's not like I owe SAMCRO anything… but it's not like that information would be all that hard to find, y'know?"_

"Shit," she hissed. "You think you were just one of the first stops on his list?"

"_Yeah, I do._" Cherry paused. _ "You know how MC guys are... They don't just stop… if he wants information, he's going to find it, especially if he thinks you're a threat."_

Shelby couldn't help but be confused. "A threat? A threat to what?"

"_SAMCRO."_

* * *

"You gonna go a round in the ring with me tonight?"

Tig glanced to his left at the sound of Happy's rasp. "Nah, brother, not tonight," he replied with a grin, clinking his beer bottle against the Killer's. "Last time I got in with you, I was outta commission for a couple of days, couldn't give these crows a taste of Tigger juice."

Happy let out a snort. "Means you're gettin' old."

The older man shoved him lightly. "Fuck you, Hap, you ain't so far behind."

He received a stony glare in response. "I ain't the one sayin' I can't play." He grabbed a shot, throwing it back. "You change your mind, you know where to find me, brother."

Tig watched his friend go, draining what was left of his brew. He figured Happy would find an opponent fairly easily. He was hoping to stay clear headed, had things he wanted to figure out. Last time he and Hap had gone a few rounds, he'd ended up with a concussion from one too many blows to the temple. He wasn't a pussy by any means, but with the Shelby issue, he had to stay on his A-game.

"Prospect, another beer," he snapped over his shoulder, his intense gaze traveling over the mass of people in the clubhouse. Brothers… crows… hangers… He noted that Opie was missing and recalled the man hurrying out after the garage closed, only taking time to say a quick goodbye to Jax.

"Need anything else, Tig?" Half-Sack asked, the typical nervousness in his tone as he set a fresh bottle down.

He didn't take the time to reply, grabbing the beer and shoving himself off the bar. He had better things to do then contemplate where Opie was getting his dick wet and one of those 'things' was smiling at him across the clubhouse.

* * *

Shelby was livid. She rested her knuckles on the marble of the sink, staring holes into the drain. That fuckin' piece of shit was looking into her. If he was going through her contacts back in Nevada, it would only be a matter of time before Bryant figured out where she was. Tig would lead him right to her Goddamn door and best case scenario, she'd be killed on the spot.

She violently twisted the faucet on and splashed cold water on her face, trying to calm down. She should have planned better, prepared herself. She'd only figured she'd have to deal with Opie, maybe Jax, and she could handle them. She hadn't been ready to have to face anyone else in SAMCRO... especially no one so determined...

"Hey Shel, you alright?"

The brunette glanced over at the closed door at the sound of Opie's voice and the gentle rapping of his knuckles. She was far from alright… but she couldn't tell him that. He'd ask too many questions. And she'd be too weak not to answer them. She exhaled a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face, pulling the door open. "Yeah, I'm good what's up?'

He eyed her curiously. "You sure? Your phone call go okay?"

She gave him a nod. "Yeah, just an old friend, wanted to say hi."

She could tell he didn't necessarily believe her, but he chose to let it go. "Listen, I just got a call that I need to go to the clubhouse." He gave her an apologetic shrug. "I don't want to cut this short, but you know how it goes…"

Shelby nodded. "When _SAMCRO_ says jump, you don't even ask how high, I know the drill," she replied. "Jax?"

Opie nodded, stepping back to let her out of the bathroom. "He's dealing with some shit, wants some help… you want me to take you back to Amber's?"

She contemplated her options for a moment. "Actually… can I come to the clubhouse with you?" she asked.

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "The clubhouse? Why would you wanna go there?" He couldn't imagine what could possibly be there for her.

Shelby shrugged. "I mean, it's Saturday, right? Means things should be in the full swing… and I haven't seen Jax since I've been back… wouldn't mind saying hi." She scratched at the side of her neck. "And it saves you a trip, doesn't it?"

Opie let out a quiet huff. "Makes sense," he finally replied. "Jax has asked about you a couple times," he admitted.

* * *

"Shelly Bean!"

Tig perked up at the sound of Jax's voice over the crowd, drawing his attention away from Randi's wandering hands. His focus moved to the entrance of the clubhouse and his eyes widened in surprise to see Opie and Shelby walking through the crowd towards the VP. He hadn't expected to see the two of them, not here. But he wasn't exactly disappointed either.

* * *

"Jack in the Box," Shelby greeted as the blond wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into a tight hug that lifted her off the ground. "That's still a terrible nickname."

He chuckled into her hair as he set her down, giving her one last squeeze. "Serves you right for not being sure to see me first." He took a step back. "A little age looks good on you, Shel."

She rolled her eyes. "Are you hitting on me, 'cause I can't tell."

Jax met Opie's eyes over her head. "Still got that Lerner 'tude, I see."

The bearded man chuckled, looping an arm over Shelby's shoulders. "Family trait… Ellie's going to be just as bad."

Shelby couldn't help but zone out as the two men seemed to forget she was even there as they bantered back and forth. She didn't mind, she wasn't so much there for the company. Her eyes scanned the crowd absently, trying to find anyone of interest.

She felt herself bristle as her gaze locked with Tig's, a smirk playing over his lips as he watched her, a mostly naked blonde practically plastered to his side. He lifted his beer in greeting, his crystal eyes sparkling with mischief. She felt her own lips curl, her blood boiling at the fury that she had managed to stifle on the ride over.

"Shel?"

Shelby shook herself out of her daze as Opie nudged her, her eyes meeting Jax's. "What's up?" she asked.

The blond grinned. "You seem a little distracted, darlin'," he pointed out. "I asked if you could fend for yourself while I borrow Opie for a bit."

The brunette shrugged. "I'm a big girl, I think I can manage," she replied. "You going to be here or will I have to find a ride home?"

Jax snagged Chibs by the collar as the man was walking by. "If we're not back, this good man should be able to take care of ya," he told her, punching the Scot in the chest lightly.

Shelby let her gaze travel over the man and shrugged, figuring he looked harmless enough, even with the scarring on his cheeks. "I could do worse," she remarked.

"What are ya havin' me do, Jackie boy?" Chibs asked, glancing between the three.

"Might need you to give this lovely lady a lift," Jax explained, gesturing at Shelby. "She doesn't have a ride out of here because I'm stealing Opie off her."

The Scot glanced at Shelby. "Ya alright with that, sweetheart?" he asked politely, lifting a cigarette to his lips, taking a drag and blowing the smoke towards the ceiling.

"All depends how you're gonna make me earn that ride," she repliedwith a smirk.

He chuckled and looked at Opie. "Dis is one o' yers den?" he asked.

The younger man shrugged. "I guess I can claim her," he replied, grunting as he received an elbow to the stomach.

"I don't need claimed," she muttered, tilting her head back to look at him.

He gave her a shrug and a look of innocence before turning his attention back to Jax. "Ready, brother?"

The blond nodded, giving Shelby one last hug. "Try and behave, will ya, Bean?"

She wrinkled her nose before giving Jax a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. "Where's the fun in that?" she asked.

Both boys chuckled before making their way out of the clubhouse, leaving Shelby alone with the Scot. "So, you're my chaperone?" she asked as the man slipped his arm over her shoulder, offering her his cigarette.

"I prefer ya just see me as 'Chibs', but whatever yer wantin' ta call it, love," he replied, giving her a grin and a wink as she pinched the cylinder between her fingers, taking a drag.

Shelby chuckled, trying to ignore the way she could feel Tig's stare across the room. "Get me a drink and I'll see you however you want," she teased, giving him a smile, handing back the smoke.

"And how can I turn down dat offer?" he replied, tucking the cigarette between his lips and guiding her towards the bar. "Prospect! Two beers, wouldya?"

* * *

"I need to talk to you."

Tig glanced over to see Shelby beside him, her green eyes narrowed and glazed, her fingers tight around a glass of what looked like bourbon. "Is that right, doll?" he asked, casually lifting his own shot glass to his lips, pouring the liquor down his throat, welcoming the burn. "You aren't falling into anything with our Scottish boy? Or are ya just makin' your rounds and I'm next?"

The brunette grit her teeth, the man in front of her blurring just a bit. "Fuck you," she hissed, trying to keep the slurring from her voice. She glanced around the clubhouse, making sure the crowd was otherwise engaged, breathing a quiet sigh of relief that no one was paying her or Tig any sort of attention. "I need to talk to you," she repeated, moving her eyes back to meet his. "Alone."

The side of Tig's mouth quirked. "If you want that, I'm gonna need you to make it worth my while since I'll lose the pussy I've been warming," he told her, giving Randi a wink as she waited across the room.

Shelby followed his gaze and couldn't help but sneer. "I would have thought you liked to work a little harder than that," she remarked, eyeing the croweater with distaste. "But I guess easy would be your type, wouldn't it?" She lifted her drink to her mouth, taking a swallow.

"Aww, baby, ya jealous?" he teased. He settled his empty glass on the bartop, wiping his hands on his jeans. He made his way away from the bar towards the dorms. He had only gone a few steps before he glanced back to see Shelby still standing where he'd left her, watching him with a scowl. "If ya wanna talk, let's go," he told her before turning and continuing his path.


	8. Bad Romance

**Author's Note: **Here it is... the infamous chapter 8 that I've been building. Feels like I've been waiting to post this a lot longer than I have, haha. I hope you aren't disappointed with this, but at the same time, I feel like it was building quite a bit. I wanna thank anyone who has read/favorited/followed/reviewed. I'm glad you're seeming to enjoy this saga. Special thank you to **mrsreedus69, OnTheWildside, FuckMyLife1989, Guest **for taking the time to review. You guys are the best. And one last thank you to **siarh**for looking this over.**  
**

This is smut. Pure, unadulterated smut. There is a sprinkling of plot because of what it's already a part of, but if you're not into dirty, filthy smut, you might as well just wait for the next chapter. I also wonder (if you're not into that), why you're reading my stuff since that's all I seem to manage anymore, ha. Also, if any sort of 'knife play' or the idea of 'sexual violence' bothers you, you may want to step away as well. But, this is Sons of Anarchy... it's to be expected, especially considering the players, yes?

**Disclaimer: **I have no claim to SOA, Opie, Tig, etc. Those rights belong to Kurt Sutter, Ryan Hurst, Kim Coates, etc. But thank you to them for bringing them to my life, ha. 'Madness' belongs to Muse, 'Bad Romance' belongs to 30 Seconds to Mars (that's the preferable version and where these specific lyrics come from anyway). All I can truly lay claim to is Shelby.

_**'I want your love, I want your disease… I want you open mouthed and on your knees… I want your psycho, your vertigo kiss, I want you in my bed, I'll make you sick, I want your love...'**_

Tig shut the door, turning the lock. He watched Shelby as she stalked across the room, her hand still tight on her glass, her body rigid with what was seeming to be constant tension. "You really need to relax, doll."

She spun on her heel, her eyes narrowed and seeming to almost shoot green fire. "Excuse me?" she spat, lifting the glass to her lips.

He smirked, casually crossing the room to stop in front of her, his own fingers moving over hers to take the drink from her mouth. "You've been tense since the second you got into town. Just relax."

She gave him a sneer. "I can't imagine you're too concerned about whether I'm tense or not. Otherwise, you'd leave me the fuck alone."

He raised an eyebrow, taking a swallow of her bourbon, letting the taste of her that lingered on the glass mix with the liquor, rolling the flavor over his tongue. "You wanted to get me alone, baby, not the other way around," he pointed out after he swallowed. He pressed the drink back into her hand. "So, really, who's not leaving who alone?"

Shelby glared up at him, her body thrumming from her buzz mixed with the fury that had been building since her phone call with Cherry. "Why are you looking into me?"

"Hmm?" he hummed, much too casually, making her anger spike as he took a few steps away from her, those intense eyes still pinning her in place.

"I know you're calling people, asking them about me," she continued, her alcohol moving with each word, drops of liquor splashing to the floor. "I want to know why."

Tig rubbed a thumb over his bottom lip, watching her carefully. He should have figured Cherry would clue her in. He'd known the gash hadn't been as innocent as she tried to play over the phone. "I like to get to know our Charming newcomers," he replied. "Ain't no harm in some research. You have something to hide?"

"Don't you have better things to do with your time?" she hissed, slamming the glass on the desk beside her.

He smirked, watching the way she was getting herself worked into such a tizzy as he barely lifted a finger. He leaned against the wall behind him, his hands resting on his belt, his fingers framing his crotch. He stayed quiet, watching the young woman as her anger seemed to escalate with each passing moment.

Shelby couldn't stay still and the way his eyes were watching her, she felt like her skin was on fire, like he was burning the surface away, seeing inside her. She'd never felt anything like it and she wanted to hate it, but deep down it was almost a welcoming feeling which only managed to fuel her fire even more. She was growing to hate Tig… mostly because she actually didn't and she wasn't sure why, since he was doing everything he possibly could to make it that she should.

Tig could practically feel the girl's tremors across the room. He savored it, loving the way he was getting under her skin. Her eyes practically glowed, her skin flushed…

"Who's your prez? Clay, right? Maybe I'll just plead my case to him, ask him to call his dog off."

The man's eyes narrowed at her words and the veiled threat. "Better choose your next words carefully, darlin'," he murmured, his voice low.

Shelby had been grasping at straws, but by his immediate reaction, she knew she'd managed to grab the right one. Considering she had yet to meet the charter president, she had to assume that Tig was working on his own. "Can't imagine your little club would be too thrilled with you using their resources like this… especially when I have Opie in my pocket-"

"You need to shut that Goddamn mouth of yours about things you know nothing about," Tig snarled, his hand closing over the knife at his hip. "'less you want me to chop you to pieces, that should keep you quiet."

Shelby snorted, snatching her bourbon from the desk, lifting it to her mouth with such force that it splashed over the sides before she took a sip. "Fuck you, Tig," she gasped around the liquor, slamming the glass back down. "You don't fuckin' scare me."

Tig bared his teeth, a wave of his own fury washing over him. This bitch had the nerve to threaten him? Threaten him with his own Goddamn club? He wasn't gonna let some fuckin' out of nowhere croweater give him shit like this no matter who she might have to back her up. "I don't know who the fuck you think you are, sugar, but you're just some fuckin' cunt and you need to learn your place."

Shelby let out a bark of laughter. The gash fuckin' laughed. And that's when Tig saw red. He moved across the floor and shoved her into the wall, taking pride at the way she winced and the sound of her head meeting the wood as his weight pinned her in place. He slipped his blade from its sheath and pressed it to her throat just enough to rise a line of her blood along the skin. "What did I just say?" he snarled, his face only inches from hers, their noses brushing, eyes locked.

They stared at each other, watching as their breathing became more labored. Tig expected to see fear in her eyes or something, but there was nothing that he could read in her green orbs. And just when he thought she couldn't surprise him, she pressed her throat a bit harder into the blade and his eyes moved downward to watch as a drop of blood ran from her throat to the valley between her breasts.

"Does it look like I'm concerned about what you may or may not have to say to me?" she challenged, running a finger over the back of the blade.

Tig's eyes widened and he lifted his gaze to meet her glazed green eyes. "Bitch, you might be fuckin' crazier than I am."

She gave him a smirk but before she could reply, his mouth slammed over hers, his teeth cutting her lip. He slipped his knife back into place before closing his hand over her throat, smearing the crimson over her skin.

Shelby clawed at his cut before snaring a hand in his hair, pulling his head back. "You done?" she taunted, her eyes on his mouth, her lower lip between her teeth.

He sneered at her. "Stop fuckin' talking." He shut her up with his mouth again. His hand tore at her shirt, ripping the thin fabric down the center, his blunt nails scratching over her skin, leaving angry red trails in their wake.

She groaned against his mouth, hitching her leg around his and pulling him closer, knocking him off balance, his other hand slamming against the wall by her head.

"So you like pain, huh?" Tig practically growled, his hand gripping her throat just a bit tighter, not giving her the air to voice a response, forcing her head back against the wall, the fingers of his other hand curling into the grain. He felt his cock stir as she struggled to breathe. "Oh, this is gonna be fun," he muttered, nipping at her lip as he casually loosened his grip and savored the sound of struggled breathing as the oxygen flowed back into her lungs.

It had been a long time since Tig had managed to find a partner that would indulge his darker side, appeal to the sadist that everyone knew hovered just beneath the surface. While he didn't mind the usual run of the mill fuck, he would be lying if he didn't admit his preference for a little torture, a taste of dominance. Most croweaters seemed to shy away from his darker tendencies.

Shelby let out a hiss as he pressed his thumb into the cut his knife had made and a shudder ran through both of them as his nail caught against the small flap of skin the blade had left behind, a bit of fresh blood staining the digit. She could feel his cock hard and hot between them, practically burning her through his denim and she couldn't help but arch her hips closer. "Fuck," she breathed, crushing her lips back to his, her fingers tangling in his curls.

As his tongue tangled with hers and their teeth clashed, Tig felt his cock throb against his zipper as she rubbed against him like a cat in heat. He contemplated how much more blood she would let him draw, imagining them both covered in the thick crimson liquid of life as he sunk deep inside her.

Tig was brought back to the moment by a flash of pain as Shelby's nails dug into the back of his own neck at his hairline. His eyes moved to hers and she gave him a smirk. "You gonna keep toying with me or just fuck me already?" she hissed, her eyes sparkling. "That's what you've been wanting, isn't it? Why you can't leave me alone? Why you're so interested in why I'm here?"

He gave her another sneer, grabbing her roughly to pull her from the wall, tossing her on the bed behind him. He ripped his belt through the buckle and pulled it from his jeans, flicking it against the floor. "You gonna make me have to gag you?" he asked, tilting his head to the side and pulling the leather taut between his hands.

Shelby leaned back on her elbows, her fingers trailing over the cut at her throat. "You might need my mouth later, don't you think?" she retorted, smoothing her tongue over her lower lip, her eyes traveling down his body to rest at the bulge between his legs.

Christ, this bitch was pushing all the right buttons. And she wanted fucking Opie? There was no way that kid could handle a bitch like this.

Tig tossed his belt to the side, noting where it fell. He reached out, wrapping his hand around her ankle and pulling her to the edge of the bed. He gestured to his crotch before tucking his thumbs into his belt loops. "Never said what I was gonna gag you with," he shot back.

She pursed her lips, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. Before she could open her mouth to give him a sarcastic retort, his hand grabbed her chin, his fingers digging into her jaw. He moved his other hand to his jeans, popping the button and sliding his hand in to haul out his cock, letting out a hiss as he touched the turgid flesh. He indicated with his eyes what she should do next, but he still wasn't prepared when she closed her mouth around his member, making his eyes roll back at the wet heat and suction surrounding his dick.

Shit, she had only had him in her mouth for a few seconds, but he could tell she knew what she was doing down there. Not only that, she did it enthusiastically, letting the blunt head hit the back of her throat and taking it like a champ. "Fuckin' shit," he gasped, his hand moving to the back of her head and shoving her mouth further down on his cock. He glanced down and met her gaze, tears streaming down her cheeks and drool running out of the corners of her mouth. "Fuckin' gorgeous," he snarled, snapping his hips to fuck her mouth, his fingers curling in her dark hair.

He felt her throat ripple around the head of his cock and he saw the way her body jerked as she gagged, but she didn't stop. If anything she worked harder, trying to shove even more of his prick down her throat, her tongue fluttering around him. "Goddamn cockslut," he complimented, his voice just above a growl. "Let daddy fuck your mouth."

Shelby let out a whimper at his words, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock. She slipped her right hand beneath her leggings, letting her fingers stroke at her clit. She slipped a digit inside her soaked cunt, aching for some sort of relief as his cock moved in and out of her mouth.

Tig watched her face, sure he'd found his new favorite color as he watched her face flush and he nearly came on the spot as he realized where her one hand had disappeared to. She stared up at him, nostrils flaring, his hands still locked on her jaw and in her hair. He let out a grunt as her teeth dragged over him and she managed to give him a smirk, even though she was stuffed full of cock. He thrust into her mouth in retaliation, holding her head in place and groaning as her hands moved to his thighs, pushing against him as she struggled to breathe, choking around him.

He stayed there just long enough before yanking her off his cock with enough force that she fell back on the bed, her chest heaving under her ruined shirt. He moved over her, straddling her thighs to pin her in place. He wrapped one of his hands around his soaked and dripping cock as he stared down her, taking in the almost purple shade of red painting her face, making the blackened streaks of tears pop against her skin. Her green eyes almost glowed, the whites riddled with red. Her lips shined with saliva and precome, drops running from the corners.

"Told you I was gonna gag you," he muttered, squeezing his cock at the base. He wasn't a man known for apologies, but he wasn't downright inhumane. He enjoyed ripping people apart in any sort of way, but when it came to his sexual proclivities, he preferred to be sure it was consensual. Just wasn't worth it otherwise.

Shelby sat up on her elbows, the head of his cock nudging her stomach. She moved a hand to her mouth, sliding a wet finger over her lips. She leaned in, pressed her mouth over his roughly, her teeth snagging his lower lip and pulling.

Tig groaned at sweet taste of their mixed juices as they exploded over his tongue. He tightened his grip on his dick, pushing her back on the bed and relishing the metallic taste of his own blood as her teeth tore the skin of his lip. He moved off the bed, standing up so he could slip his blade out of its sheath.

"And just what are you going to do with that?" she rasped, her eyes on the knife.

Tig felt his prick twitch at the sound of her voice, taking pride in the fact that it was his cock that made her sound that way. "Oh, this?" he asked, feigning innocence as he lifted his hand, staring at the blade and admiring the way it caught the light, a smear of Shelby's now dried blood along the edge. His icy eyes flashed back to hers, his head still turned towards the knife. "What do you think I may do with it?"

Shelby's eyes narrowed and she crossed her legs, but he noted her slight shift, a smirk pulling at his mouth as he realized how soaked she must be. "If I knew, I wouldn't have asked," she countered, giving a sigh of annoyance and impatience as she leaned back on her palms.

Tig gave her a thin smile, but inside he was practically dancing. She was still a willing participant in this game and he was going to enjoy every Goddamn minute. He gave his cock a cursory jerk before lifting his hand, dragging the blade against his palm, testing the edge. He glanced up, eyeing her for a moment. Quick as a snake, before she even had time to react, he used the knife to slice each bra strap before taking the blade to the center of the garment.

She glared up at him as the lace fluttered from her chest. "I would have taken it off if you had just taken the time to ask," she snapped as he shoved her ruined shirt off her shoulders, brushing her bra to the side.

"And what fun would that have been for me?" he asked, pressing her back on the mattress. He slowly dragged the blade down her throat, following the path of her naked torso. He took the time to trace each nipple, pressing the tip of the knife against each peak enough to make her gasp at the pinch before continuing down her stomach. He used just enough pressure to let his blade slice through the thin fabric of her leggings, but was sure to not cut the skin underneath… not yet anyway. When he was satisfied, he settled the weapon back in place at his hip, tearing the garment away from her lower half, leaving her in nothing but a pristine white thong.

He slid his blade under the soaked crotch of her panties, slipping it between her lips to let the cool metal slide over her clit. His cock nearly throbbed as she let out a moan, her legs spreading even wider. "Where the fuck have you been all my life?" he muttered, carefully removing the blade to slice the fabric at her hips, leaving her completely exposed on the bed while he was still mostly clothed, his cock jutting out from the zipper of his jeans.

He let his eyes move over her skin, wanting to run his knife (followed by his tongue) over every inch of peaches and cream flesh he could reach. He wanted to make cuts that matched the slice on her throat in different patterns on her skin and watch the bright red lines bloom. He took note of the different tattoos and scars, telling a story that he secretly couldn't wait to read, much to his own surprise.

Tig took a deep inhale as he settled his knife on the bed beside her, savoring the scent of woman and the anticipation of sex in the air. He was never one to really be concerned if his partner got off… if they did, that was just an added bonus (for them). But he loved the smell and sometimes he couldn't help but bury his face between their thighs, just to see if they tasted as good as they smelled. He moved to his knees, wincing a bit at the unforgiving wood , before draping Shelby's knees over his shoulders, spreading her open to his hungry eyes. He could see that she was dripping, her pussy shaved and the perfect shade of pink, glistening with arousal. She was getting off on this knife play almost more than he was.

"Oh my fucking GOD," Shelby cried out as Tig went to work between her legs without warning, his mouth working her over, no hint of gentleness. His tongue seemed to be everywhere once, his facial hair rubbing her sensitive skin raw. He added his teeth to the equation every so often, scraping over her clit, making her yelp.

Jesus fuckin' Christ, this gash tasted good. Even better than she smelled, which was rare. She burst over his tongue with a hint of citrus, mixed with a sweetness he couldn't quite identify, but he just couldn't get enough. His tongue rolled over her clit before he lapped at the juices that continued to flow. He wrapped his arms around her thighs, spreading her further, fucking her with his tongue until she started to convulse around him, her body thrashing, squeals and moans erupting with a volume that would have been cause for concern had he not still been able to hear the thumping bass and other noises from the main room of the clubhouse.

Tig didn't let up, didn't slow down. He couldn't get enough of her taste, the feeling of her cunt clenching around his tongue, making his dick almost ache with envy. He tightened his arms on her thighs as he felt her trying to flee, knowing that she was too sensitive for the pace and the pressure. But that didn't stop him.

Finally, he decided he had his fill, licking up her slit one last time before pulling away, unwrapping his arms from her legs and settling her feet against the floor, keeping her legs spread. He could see the marks his fingers left behind and he couldn't wait to see the patterns of bruising that would pop up. He stood, almost looming over her as he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. He watched as Shelby struggled to catch her breath, her body still twitching from the onslaught of sensory overload he had just given her.

"Had enough?" he asked, his hand sliding over his cock that was practically purple with need. As much as he wanted to come and paint her with ropes of white, he knew how much better it would be if he exercised just a touch more patience. He wanted to hear Shelby beg, downright plead for his cock in her cunt.

Shelby swallowed and he noticed her wince as it pulled at the cut on her throat. "It doesn't look like you're done," she rasped, still catching her breath. "So, somehow I don't think you are really concerned if I've had enough."

Tig felt the grin spread over his face as he pushed his jeans just a bit lower, just enough that he'd be able to fuck her. "You've done this before haven't you?" he asked, approaching her slowly, pulling a condom from cut and slipping it over his cock. He didn't give her a chance to respond before he slid his cock inside her and he couldn't help but groan at how tight she fit around him, her pussy sucking him deep as it adjusted to his size. He stayed still, every nerve ending screaming at him to plow into her until he exploded inside her. But not until he heard her say it. "What do you want?" he growled, grinding his teeth, beads of sweat against his brow.

"Tig," she practically whined. She tried to bare down on him, but his hands moved to her hips, holding her in place. She thrashed underneath him, trying to get him to move inside her, feel his cock drag and expand, but he wouldn't let her move.

"Just tell me what you want, sweetheart," he taunted, his thumbs digging into her hip bones.

Shelby glared up at him, her eyes wild. "Would you just fucking move already?"

Tig grinned before bending over her. He slipped a hand between them, pinching her clit, making her cry out, his teeth bearing down on her earlobe. "Just say it and I will." He gave her ear once last nip before sliding the tip of his nose over her cheek, his face to hovering over hers.

She met his gaze, her breathing labored as their eyes locked. She swallowed and lifted her head, letting their noses brush. "I've already gotten off more than once," she admitted, her voice just above a whisper, her tongue slipping out to taste his lower lip. "You're the one that should be begging to catch up."

Shelby's words slowly sunk into his brain. He realized that she was right and at some point, she had turned the game around on him, making him think that he was the one in control of their path, bending her to his whim, when in reality, she had been calling the shots, pressing back, forcing him to make decisions that appealed to what she wanted instead. And really, he had to admire that in the girl. She really was crazier than he had originally given her credit for.

He let out a laugh before pushing himself off her, his body perpendicular to hers, and he glanced down, loving the way she looked split on his cock, burning the image to his memory. "Guess you have a point there," he admitted. He'd just have to make her beg another day.

He started to move, nothing gentle, nothing slow… That was not Tig Trager. She met him thrust for thrust, her hands clawing at his chest. He let out grunt as her hands pulled and ripped at his shirt, yanking it apart so that buttons flew all over the room. Her nails scratched at his chest, her fingers gliding through his chest hair as she tried to find purchase.

He knew he wasn't going to last much longer. He could feel his balls drawing up, the come boiling inside. He just wanted to feel her come once more, see what it felt like to have her squeezing and rippling around his cock. His hand blindly reached for where he remembered setting his knife, his fingers wrapping around the hilt. His thrusting didn't slow as he pulled the blade in front of him.

Before he even had a moment to decide exactly what he was going to do, Tig felt her detonate around him, letting out a scream that was practically music to his ears. Shit, he didn't even have to touch her with the blade before she was giving him what he wanted, practically sobbing with what he could feel was an earth shattering orgasm. Her cunt milked at his cock and with a bellow, he exploded, making him freeze in place, his knife still tight in his hand.


	9. An Honest Mistake

**Author's Note: **How do I even try to follow up with 8? Ha. Hope you all enjoyed the Tigby smut and aren't too upset that she's not knocking boots with Opie (though who know what the future holds here?). Here's the morning after... sadly no smut happening. As always, thank you everyone who read/reviewed/favorited/followed. Super big special thank yous to **FuckMyLife1989,** **OnTheWildside,** **mrsreedus69 **for taking the time to review. And thank you to **siarh** for giving this a once over. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I have no claim to SOA, Opie, Tig, etc. Those rights belong to Kurt Sutter, Ryan Hurst, Kim Coates, etc. But thank you to them for bringing them to my life, ha. 'Madness' belongs to Muse, 'An Honest Mistake' belongs to The Bravery. All I can truly lay claim to is Shelby and Amber.

'_**I swear I never meant for this… I never meant… Don't look at me that way… it was an honest mistake...'**_

Opie rubbed a hand over his face after shutting off his bike. "Long fucking night," he muttered, glancing at Jax beside him, the blond looking as awake as he had when they left.

The VP grinned, pulling his riding glasses from his eyes. "You need to get used to them," he pointed out, sliding off his ride. "You know how it works."

Opie let out a sigh, following his friend towards the clubhouse, rolling his shoulders to work out the kinks. "Yeah, I'm working on it," he replied, cracking his neck.

"So, you seem to be doing better," Jax observed, pulling his pack of cigarettes from his cut and offering a smoke to Opie.

The bearded man grabbed a cylinder, tucking it between his lips before giving both himself and Jax a light. "You were right, I guess… gotta try to get back to normal at some point."

The blond took a puff, a smirk playing over his lips. "Shelby Lerner helping you out with that?"

Opie cut his eyes at his friend, rolling the cylinder between his lips. "You're as bad as my old man," he complained.

Jax chuckled, pulling himself up on the picnic bench outside the clubhouse, his elbows resting on his knees. "I'm just saying, Op, you seem better since she came into town. I'm glad, whatever the reason may be."

Opie sighed, sitting next to his old friend, flicking his ash. "She's a nice distraction," he admitted, taking a puff. "For many reasons."

Jax nodded his agreement. "I can only imagine. She's come a long way since she left." He shifted his gaze, his smirk growing over his lips. "You hit it yet?"

The taller man shoved him lightly. "C'mon, man, that's my sister-in-law."

"Yeah, but she ain't your _sister_," he pointed out. "So nothing's stopping you. And you should probably lay a legitimate claim if you don't want someone else sliding in on it."

Opie snorted quietly. "My wife just died, bro," he muttered, rubbing his palm over the back of his neck. "Seems like a dick move to swoop in on her sister like that."

Jax shrugged, taking a drag. "You know as well as I do that once one of the guys gets a whiff of Shelby, all bets are off and they'll be trying to get into those panties of hers," he explained. "I just want to make sure you'll be alright with that."

The broader man lowered his eyes to the ground beneath him. He knew Jax was right. Shelby had grown up and plenty of the men in Charming would notice that, the first of which would be in the clubhouse. His eyes narrowed when he realized he'd left her with his brothers the night before and who knew what could have happened in the handful of hours he was gone.

"Hell, if it weren't for Tara, I might even give her a try…"

Opie laughed. "Shelby wouldn't touch you with ten foot pole," he replied, crushing his cigarette butt in the ashtray behind them. "And even if she would, Gemma would kill you before she let that happen."

Jax left out a chuckle of his own. "Such a waste," he lamented.

They sat in comfortable silence for several beats as Jax leisurely puffed on his cigarette. "I think she's hiding something," Opie finally admitted, breaking the quiet.

The blond's eyes cut towards his friend, concern flashing through his eyes. "Any idea what?"

Opie shook his head. "Not sure," he replied. "And it's more a feeling than anything else… It's like when she answers a question there's still a piece of it hanging in the air, like what she's telling me isn't the whole story."

"In regards to what?" Jax pressed, flicking the ash to the ground.

Opie sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and scratching his cheek. "Where she's been, why exactly she's back…" He shook his head. "I feel like she hasn't really told me anything and it's really starting to bother me."

The VP gave a shrug, reaching down to scratch his ankle. "Think you might just be paranoid? Possibly worried for nothing? I mean, you know how Shelby was when we were kids… she tended to make things bigger than they should have been, acted like everything had to be some sort of drama scene."

Opie really couldn't argue that assessment. He'd never call his sister-in-law a drama queen, but she tended to find herself in situations that most people could easily avoid and created problems where they shouldn't even exist. But that didn't mean he wasn't worried about her… They weren't kids anymore and the type of trouble that Shelby could find herself in… well, he really didn't want to think about it.

Their conversation was cut off as the door of the clubhouse was shoved open and Chibs stepped out, shading his eyes from the bright morning sun. His gaze settled on the men on the picnic table and he made his way over. "Everything go alright last night, boyos?"

Jax nodded. "Right as rain, brother," he replied. "Just had a meet up in Oakland, trying to smooth shit out."

"You get Shelby home okay?" Opie interjected, leaning forward.

The Scot furrowed his brow, slowly shaking his head. "Your girl disappeared 'bout four hours after ya both left," he replied. "Thought maybe she found anudder ride home or ya came back."

The VP frowned, pulling out another cigarette and tucking it between his lips. "We just got back here, haven't seen her," he told him, glancing at Opie. "You said she was staying with Amber? Maybe she called her to pick her up."

The hulking man shoved himself off the bench, pulling his burner from his pocket. "I'm gonna check on her, give me a minute," he responded, keying in the number and lifting the phone to his ear, walking over to the boxing ring for a bit of privacy.

* * *

Shelby let out a quiet groan, the high pitched tone of her cell phone slicing through the air and her head. "Fuck," she muttered, wincing as her arm reached out of the blanket and a jolt of pain shot through her body. Gritting her teeth, she shoved herself to the edge of the bed. She blindly felt around, the tips of her fingers brushing over the leather of her bag. After exhausting effort, she finally managed to get her hands on her phone, lifting it to her ear. "Hello?" she grunted, pressing her hand to her forehead as she sunk back into the pillow.

"_Rough night?" _

She let out a chuckle at the sound of Opie's concerned voice. "Your boys sure know how to party," she rasped, tucking the sheet up to her chin.

"_You make it home okay?"_

Shelby grimaced at her question, her eyes opening and sliding to the closed bathroom door, the shower going. "Yeah, I called Amber, didn't want Chibs to have to travel all that way, miss out on any free pussy. He seemed to be making some friends." She held her breath, waiting for his response.

"_I'm sure he appreciates that, but next time, just let him do what Jax asks him to, alright? He can always pick up where he left off."_

She could hear the relief in his tone. "Will do, boss." Her eyes cut back to the door as the water cut off and the curtain was pulled back. "Think I can call you in a bit?" she asked. "I want to get a shower."

"_Yeah, I have to meet with the guys, so I'll swing by this afternoon after I pick up Ellie and Kenny… I know they'd want to meet their aunt."_

Shelby chuckled. "Looking forward to it," she replied. "Bye, Op." She didn't wait for his reply before cutting off the call, sliding the phone on the bedside table as the bathroom door swung open. She pushed herself to a sitting position, holding the sheet to her chest as Tig stepped into the room, a towel low on his hips.

"Thought I told you to find your way out," he greeted, rubbing a towel against his soaked curls.

"Do I seem like the kinda girl who just leaves when you tell her?" she countered, pulling her dark waves away from her neck and over her shoulder.

Tig smirked. "You hopin' for another round, baby?" he asked, draping his towel over his shoulders and taking a seat on the bed.

She rolled her eyes, slipping out of the bed. "Like you'd be able to go again," she shot back.

"Oh, sweetheart, you have no _idea _the stamina I have," he reassured her, his pale eyes raking over her body, admiring his work from the night before.

Shelby swallowed and grimaced as the movement pulled at the cut on her throat. She walked over to the mirror, her eyes widening as she took in her appearance. The cut on her neck was angry and red, blood crusted and smeared over the edges. Hints of bruising were riddled over her neck from where she'd been grabbed around the throat. Her gaze traveled lower, noting the bruising on her hips, her thighs…

"You alright there, doll?"

She lifted her gaze to meet Tig's in the mirror, his wrinkled button up extended towards her. She turned around, snatching it from his fingers. "I'm fine," she snapped, pulling the shirt over her shoulders and buttoning it for the illusion of modesty. "I just wish you had kept the marks in a less obvious area if you had to do it at all."

He rolled his eyes, pulling the towel from his hips and reaching behind her for the dresser drawer, smirking as her gaze was immediately pulled south. "You helped me make those marks, sweetheart, so I don't think you need to be getting all wounded about it now." He pulled out two pairs of boxers, draping a pair over her shoulder before pulling his own pair over his hips.

They both turned at the sound of a knock on the door. "Yeah?" he called over his shoulder.

"_Tig_," she snarled, her eyes wide as the doorknob turned. The last thing she needed was for Opie to find out she'd lied to him and was still in the clubhouse. Considering the state of both her and Tig's undress, it wouldn't take much for whoever was at the door to figure out what had happened.

Juice stuck his head in the door. "Hey, Tig, Church in-" He cut himself off when he noticed the familiar brunette standing behind his brother, a dark blue button up just managing to cover up what he would have preferred to see. "Didn't know you had company," he finished with a smirk, his gaze travelling the room.

"We're meeting?" Tig asked, immediately all business, his expression serious as he grabbed his jeans from the floor.

"Clay wants us at the table in five," he replied, his eyes landing back on Shelby as she pulled boxers up her legs and he managed to just get a glimpse between her thighs.

"Hey!" Tig snapped, forcing Juice's attention. "I'll be there as soon as I'm done here." He gave the Puerto Rican a pointed look, letting him know that this would stay between them.

Juice nodded. "Good to see you again," he told Shelby, giving a nod before pulling the door shut, leaving the two alone.

"You couldn't have gone out there? Kept him from seeing me?" she asked, attempting to fluff her hair, avoiding his gaze.

The older man smirked as he pulled his jeans to his waist, leaving them unbuttoned. "You embarrassed to be seen with me?" he asked. He moved past her to find a shirt.

"I'd imagine most women would be," she replied, a scathing tone to her voice. "And I don't think Opie would be too thrilled to hear about this, so the less people that know the better."

Tig couldn't help but snort as he pulled his clothes into place, slipping his cut over his shoulders. "Typical bitch, worrying about useless shit," he muttered. He checked his pockets, making sure he had everything he needed. "If you're that concerned, just make sure you're out of here before we're out of Chapel, alright?" He fixed his collar before leaving the room, not giving her a second glance.

Shelby let out an exhale, trying to tap down her annoyance. She glanced over her shoulder to her pile of what had been her clothes, now a pile of glorified rags. She wasn't sure what she had been thinking the night before. She had been drinking, but that excuse didn't work after the age of 23, at least not in her mind. She'd known what she was doing, she'd known who she was with, she'd known it was a _terrible_ idea…

It was that sort of decision making that got her into trouble in the first place. She rarely looked before she leaped and then was forced to find a way to clean up her messes. It was why she had been forced out of Charming a decade before and then the reason she'd had to leave Indian Hills.

Her thoughts were cut off as her phone started to chirp, letting her know she'd had a text message. She let out a quiet sigh, figuring it was Amber looking for her. Grabbing the plastic off the nightstand, she frowned at the screen when she didn't recognize the number. Her fingers moved over the phone as she entered her password to unlock it.

_haven't i always told you? just because you can run, that doesn't mean you can hide…-BW_

Shelby swallowed, tears springing to her eyes as she read the words, the initials cutting deep.

* * *

"I was wondering when you were going to call me."

Shelby pulled the car door shut, buckling her seatbelt. "Thanks for coming," she replied, giving the blonde a forced smile.

Amber opened her mouth to reply, but was quickly cut off when she registered her friend's appearance. "Holy shit, Shel, did you get mugged?"

The brunette grimaced, flipping down the visor to look at herself in the mirror. "Not quite, she replied, wincing as she ran her fingers over the wound on her neck. "At least not the bad kind," she grudgingly admitted, flipping the visor back into place.

Amber arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Shelby cut her eyes to the side. "I don't want to talk about it," she finished. "Not yet."

The porn star gave a quick nod and a shrug. "Means it wasn't Opie then," she observed, pulling out onto the road, driving away from the clubhouse.

They rode along in silence, Amber's eyes on the road, Shelby's gaze focused out the window. She welcomed the quiet, thanking the heavens that her friend wasn't the type to press for information. She asked very few questions and was always accepting of whatever she was offered, no matter how little.

The brunette wasn't ready to admit how shaken up she was. She now had a minimum of two secrets under her belt, one she was hiding from everyone, another that she was pocketing from Opie. She knew she was spreading herself thin, especially by fucking around with Tig. That had been an unnecessary mistake… an error that she really couldn't afford.

She wasn't sure why she'd allowed it to happen. One minute she'd been ready to tear him to pieces with her bare hands, the next she had been letting him use her in a way even she craved.

Shelby liked physical pain… she wasn't sure why. She didn't have the stomach to inflict it on herself, but she welcomed others to do it for her, especially men. It made her feel alive, helped her forget… it was why she'd been drawn to Bryant the way she'd been…

But she could only take so much and she was aware of the thin line between what was acceptable and what would be considered abuse. Bryant had crossed that line, time and time again. She'd tried to convince herself that it was what she wanted, what she deserved…

"You okay?"

Amber's voice cut through her thoughts and she jumped at the unexpected intrusion. She glanced over to see the blonde's eyes still fixed on the road in front of her. "Yeah, I'll be alright."

The blonde chuckled, shaking her head. "I didn't ask if you'll be alright, I asked if you're okay."

Shelby gaze shifted to her knees and she felt the burn behind her eyes. "No," she finally whispered. "I'm really not."

* * *

"So, we're thinking it was a Mayan hit that was meant for Opie?" Jax reiterated, his tone skeptical.

Tig glanced at Clay before his eyes moved around the table. "You're the one that talked to LeRoy, they one that's saying he's telling you that it wasn't a Niner arrangement. Only leaves so many possibilities."

"Ain't like the wetbacks don't have enough motive," Clay finished, giving his stepson a pointed look.

Opie sat in his seat, gently scratching his thumb over the wood of the table. He couldn't believe that he was sitting there, discussing who could or couldn't have killed his wife. He hated that everyday was another reminder that Donna was dead, just gone. It was something he wished he could just forget… he didn't want to forget Donna, but he hated this broken feeling everytime he had to remember she was never coming back.

"Are we sure the hit was meant for Opie?" Juice chimed in. "Maybe Alvarez wanted to send some sort of message?"

Clay shook his head. "Alvarez may be a piece of Mexican shit, but he's not going to go after women like that unless they give him some sort of personal reason. He'll work his issues out with a Son directly. This was a fatal mistake, plain and simple."

"We should probably still put someone on Shelby though, shouldn't we?" the Puerto Rican pressed. "Just until we know for sure what we're dealing with?"

Tig lifted his gaze at the brunette's name. "We really gonna waste our manpower on some bitch like that?"

Opie cut his eyes at Tig. "Don't talk about her like that," he growled, his voice low. He turned his attention to Juice. "I can keep my eye on Shelby."

"Juice is right, we'll want to keep Shel protected," Jax agreed. "And you can't be with her all the time, Op."

Clay shook his head. "Ain't necessary unless you know something I don't, son."

The blond turned towards his stepfather, his eyes hard. "Oh, no, we're on the same page," he replied, glancing at Tig.

The Sergeant shifted in his chair, holding the VP's gaze, daring him to open his mouth. He knew what Jax suspected, that the boy had a feeling of what the truth may or may not be. But he and Clay had covered their tracks, so there was really no way that Gemma's boy could find any proof of what had really happened to Donna, he'd only be left with theories.

"Look, all I'm saying is that we should be prepared for anything," Jax finally said, shifting his gaze back to Clay. "Maybe have the Prospect watch her, ain't like he's doing anything."

Chibs nodded. "Might do the Prospect some good, gettin' him close ta some fresh pussy."

Opie slammed his hand down. "I said I got it," he snarled. "No one else needs to go near my sister-in-law."

Silence hung over the table as Opie fixed a glare on each member of the club, his eyes landing on Tig last. "I won't let anything else happen to my family," he finally murmured, the warning clear under his tone. "And that includes Shelby."

Clay cleared his throat. "Guess that settles it," he confirmed. "So now we're just going to have to figure out how to take care of this Mayan problem."

"Eliminate it," Tig offered. "That should more than take care of it." He knew the sooner they got rid of the created problem, the better off he and Clay would be and in the clear.

"I want to be the one to do it."

The group's focus shifted back to Opie. He looked up from the table his eyes hard, his expression serious. "When we find him, I'll be the one to take him out."

"Op, you don't have to-"

"No," he replied, cutting Jax off. "He killed my wife and I'm going to return that favor, make him pay for that mistake."

Clay nodded. "Then you'll be the one to do it," he agreed. "Once we find the bastard, Opie will be the one to pull that trigger. All in favor?"

The rest of the men agreed, not having a problem letting Opie resolve those issues. They figured that it was the best way that he'd be able to find some sort of piece and if he was willing, who were they to stop him?

"Anything else we need to discuss?" Clay continued once the group settled down. His eyes travelled over the table.

"Think we're good, Clay," Bobby offered.

The President nodded and brought the gavel down on the table. "Dismissed."


	10. Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the wait guys. For some reason, this chapter didn't want to get written. I still feel like it's a little all over the place, but I'm hoping I'm just being too hard on myself (which I often tend to be guilty of). Also, this is so filler-y and while I think it's necessary, I'm still not a huge fan of filler. No matter. Let me just say my thank yous and get out of here. As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read/favorite/follow/review. Special thanks to **OnTheWildside, FuckMyLife1986, mrsreedus69** for the kind reviews.

**Disclaimer: **I have no claim to SOA, Opie, Tig, etc. Those rights belong to Kurt Sutter, Ryan Hurst, Kim Coates, etc. But thank you to them for bringing them to my life, ha. 'Madness' belongs to Muse, 'Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own' is U2. All I can truly lay claim to is Shelby and Amber.

'_**Listen to me now… I need to let you know… you don't have to go it alone...'**_

Tig shoved open the door to his dorm, almost disappointed to find it empty. He wouldn't have minded another go round with the girl, something to pass the time, blow off a little steam. He kicked the door shut, shrugging out of his cut and gently placing it on the edge of the bed as he made his way to the bathroom.

He turned the spigot of the sink, letting the cold water run before shoving his hands underneath the stream and splashing his face. He rubbed at his cheeks before letting his eyes open as he regarded his reflection in the mirror, water dripping from his chin.

_I won't let anything else happen to my family… and that includes Shelby._

The words rang through Tig's head, making him shudder. He knew what that meant… Shelby was officially off limits, Opie was finally stepping up and laying his claim. He couldn't help but wonder if the man was aware of what had happened between them the night before, if that was the reason to finally put some sort of verbal ownership.

He shook his head. No, Opie couldn't know. If he did, that would have been a whole other conversation, most likely one that included fists and some spilled blood. And really, who would have told him?

Tig let out a sigh, his palms flat on the sink, his head hanging between his shoulders. He felt a gnawing in his stomach, a feeling he wasn't used to. Guilt. He wasn't used to feeling guilty, but he kept feeling it more and more ever since he'd been the one to take out Donna, first with Opie and now that Shelby was in town…

He'd tried to brush it off. Shit happened, mistakes were made, he knew how life worked. But he wasn't usually the one _making_ those sort of mistakes, he wasn't some sort of fuckin' amateur. He tried to act as though he wasn't bothered, it was just part of the job. Collateral damage, innocent people sometimes managed to get caught in the fire… and it had all worked out when they found out that Opie wasn't a rat, it was just a shame that Donna had already paid that bill.

But when Tig had woken up, Shelby asleep beside him, he'd known that it _wasn't _just part of the job, it was still complicated. He hadn't been able to stay beside her, knowing that he was the reason she was back in town, he was the reason Opie was without a wife, his kids left without a mother.

The darker man shook his head, drops of water flinging across the bathroom before dragging his palm over his face. There was nothing he could do now except move on, push through to the other side. Once they got rid of the Mayan that he and Clay had pinned it on, everything would be fine… Donna's supposed killer would be dead and buried, the club could start to heal...

"Tiggy, you in there?"

He snatched a towel off the hook and walked back into the room at the sound of Clay's voice on the other side of the door. He wiped the terry over his face before throwing it on the bed and pulling open the door. "What's up, brother?"

The older man ducked into the room, jerking his chin towards the door. Tig took the hint, shutting and leaning against it, watching his old friend as he wearily lowered himself to the edge of the mattress. "You doin' alright, Clay?"

The President nodded. "Yeah, I'm good, just needed a few," he replied, lifting his eyes to meet Tig's. "Trammell should have everything in place for us by tomorrow, we should be in the clear."

The Sergeant gave a nod, lifting his foot to lay flat against the wood behind him, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "How we gonna play it?"

Clay rubbed a hand over his face, dragging his fingers down his chin. "Exactly what I said in there… We'll find him, let Opie take him out."

Tig nodded in full agreement. "Something else bothering you?"

The lighter man exhaled a breath. "Not sure how much longer I can keep a handle on our VP, if I'm honest." He shook his head. "That kid is pushin' me…"

A scowl pulled at the other man's mouth as he took a seat next to his old friend. "Would be a lie if I tried to tell you I didn't notice," he admitted. "And I don't think I'm the only one."

* * *

Shelby sighed, curling up on the couch, her eyes on the television, but not really noticing what happening on the screen in front of her.

"What are you doing home? Thought you would be with Opie."

The brunette lifted her head to see Amber giving her a look of confusion in the doorway. She pushed herself to a sitting position and shrugged. "He called a couple hours ago and cancelled on me," she replied. "I guess he sent the kids off with his mom… he didn't sound too good, but we really didn't talk all that long, didn't give me a chance to ask."

The blonde tossed her bag onto her recliner before falling onto the couch, her feet propped on the coffee table. "Probably better that way, right?"

Shelby raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. "And that means?"

Amber pointed at her, moving her finger up and down. "Might give you a little time to heal… or at least figure how to cover those up. Can't imagine Opie would let you get away without asking a few questions you'd rather not answer."

Her mouth turned down in a frown, hissing as her thumb moved over the ragged cut on her throat. "Fair point," she admitted, glancing at the digit to be sure she hadn't reopened the wound.

"You gonna tell me?"

Shelby pushed herself up off the couch, Tig's button-up brushing the top of her thighs as she walked to the kitchen. "Tell you what?" she replied, pulling open the refrigerator and grabbing a soda.

The porn star shrugged, leaning against the opening to her kitchen. "I dunno, anything? Maybe?"

The brunette popped the tab and took a swallow. "You wanna clarify?"

"Shelby, c'mon," the blonde almost pleaded. "You show up after 10 years in the middle of the night on my doorstep, a bag over your shoulder, telling me you need a place to stay but you don't tell me why or how long. Don't get me wrong, I've missed you and I'm thrilled you're back, but I need you to give me _something_, especially if you're going to be calling me to pick you up at the _SAMCRO _clubhouse looking as though you got into some sort of knife fight."

Shelby bit her lower lip, leaning back against the counter and avoiding her friend's stare. She'd known she was on borrowed time with Amber if she planned on staying with her. While her friend didn't push, there was only so much that was fair and she was more than aware that she had crossed over that line.

"I'm not trying to push you, but if you can't give me some sort of idea of what to expect…" The blonde let out a groan, pressing her hands to her face. "Fuck, why are you putting me in this position?"

Shelby lifted her head, raising an eyebrow. "What position?"

Amber pressed her palms together in front of her mouth. "If you can't talk to me, I can't let you stay here," she finished. "You're throwing my life into a whole upheaval and I can't afford to do that unless you tell me what I'm dealing with here."

"So, you're just gonna kick me out? Amber, where the hell am I gonna go?" Shelby couldn't believe what she was hearing. She'd figured that her old friend would press her at some point due to the circumstances, but she'd never dreamed that she'd be forcing her out like this.

The blonde sighed, running her fingers through her blonde curls. "I'm not 'kicking you out'," she argued. "All I'm asking is for you to give me something."

Shelby chewed her lower lip, her fingers tapping against the can. "Can you give me some time?"

Amber's eyes narrowed. "I've given you time," she replied, a note of exasperation in her tone. "How much more can I possibly give you?"

The brunette sighed. "Just give me another week, A," she pleaded. "If I can't make myself tell you everything in a week, I'll find somewhere else to go."

The porn star regarded her carefully for several beats before slowly nodding. "Fine, a week," she agreed. "But you have to figure out the vehicle situation before that," she reasoned. "I have a schedule and I can't keep chauffeuring you, okay?"

Shelby nodded. "Alright, I'll talk to Opie about it, see if I can't find a temporary ride."

"Good." Amber crossed the kitchen and pulled her friend into a hug. "You know I love you, I just need you to let me help you," she murmured, holding her tight.

The brunette slowly returned the hug, squeezing her eyes shut at the sting of tears. "I know," she whispered.

* * *

God, she was beautiful.

Opie loosely held the picture in his hand, his thumb tracing her face. Donna had looked so beautiful at their wedding… she was gorgeous always, but the day her last name went from Lerner to Winston… she'd been especially stunning.

He carefully set the frame down on the couch beside him, leaning his head back to fix his eyes on the ceiling. He shouldn't have been at table tonight. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to have to face that Donna was gone all over again, talk about who may or may not have done it. Did it really matter? As much as he wanted to fill her killer's body with bullets, he knew in the end it wouldn't bring his wife back.

He really thought he'd been getting better about it, that he'd had enough time. Especially having Shelby back home. She'd been able to distract him, make him focus on something other than what his life had been for the past several weeks. But all that had been for nothing as soon as he sat with his brothers.

"Thought you had Shelby watch."

Opie tilted his head to see Jax leaning in his doorway, lifting a lighter to his cigarette. "She'll be fine for a night," he replied, moving his eyes back to the ceiling.

He felt his friend take a seat next to him on the couch, his feet lifting to rest on the coffee table. "Not the way you made it seem at the table tonight," the blond pointed out. "You might as well have stamped your name over the girl."

"Wasn't like that," Opie replied, sinking lower into the cushion, blindly reaching out to take the cigarette Jax offered and took a drag. "Just didn't want some idiot Prospect thinking they could get close to her."

The VP scoffed, taking the cylinder back and slipping it between his lips. "Right, I'm sure that's all it was." Jax glanced over at his old friend. "You alright, Op? You left pretty quick after the gavel..."

Opie shook his head, but didn't reply, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. He knew Jax was pushing for him to get back to normal and he really had been trying, but he just felt so lost and he wasn't sure how to find his way out.

"Opie?"

He glanced over as he felt an elbow in his side, Jax giving him a look of concern. "I'll be alright, I just think I need to be alone tonight," he admitted, shoving himself off the couch.

The blond frowned, pushing himself to his feet and running a hand through his hair. "You sure that's what you need?"

Before Opie could reply, Jax's pre-paid went off from inside his cut. With a grunt, he reached in and pulled the phone to his ear. "Yeah?"

The taller man took that as his cue to make his way to his darkened kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge. As he went to close the door, his fingers tightened, taking notice of a few older tupperware containers of food that he remembered Donna preparing the day before she was killed. He remembered watching her flit around the kitchen, taking advantage of the fact that they were home, no longer in ATF custody. He felt a tug at his heart as he remembered the smile she gave him when he'd asked if she was cooking for an army. He recalled the way her lips felt on his when she'd kissed him to cut off his questions…

"I gotta head to St. Thomas to pick up Tara."

Opie glanced over his shoulder as Jax's voice interrupted his memories. "Don't let me stop you," he replied, twisting the cap off his beer and taking a swallow, barely tasting the beverage.

The blond watched his old friend for several beats. "She'd want you to be okay," he finally said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You know that right?"

"Just go, Jax," Opie replied.

The VP gave a nod, clapping his friend on the shoulder and pulling him into a hug that Opie halfheartedly returned. With one final pat on the back, Jax made his way out of the house.

Opie let out a sigh as he heard the motorcycle pull away, reaching into his cut and pulling out his own phone. He scrolled through his contacts until he landed on 'S'. He stared at Shelby's number for several moments before pressing send and lifting the phone to his ear, sitting at his kitchen table in the dark, his beer in front of him as the call connected.


	11. Crash Into Me

**Author's Note: **Oh hey. Next chapter. Has a little smuttiness for you. It's one of my favorite scenes, although I partially wonder if I jammed it in too soon, but c'est la vie. As always, thank you to those reading/alerting/favoriting/reviewing. Special thank you to my loves **OnTheWildside** and **mrsreedus69**. The alerts I get saying you've reviewed make me so happy. Anywho, I hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **I have no claim to SOA, Opie, Tig, etc. Those rights belong to Kurt Sutter, Ryan Hurst, Kim Coates, etc. But thank you to them for bringing them to my life, ha. 'Madness' belongs to Muse, 'Crash Into Me' is Dave Matthews Band. All I can truly lay claim to is Shelby and Amber.

'_**Hike up your skirt a little more… and show the world to me...'**_

Tig didn't often find himself in situations where he could be taken by surprise. Given his position in the club and his overall lifestyle, he generally took things as they came, didn't allow it. But seeing Shelby standing alone outside the bay door of the garage as he pulled up, a cigarette smoldering between her first two fingers, that was the only word he figured could accurately describe what he was suddenly feeling. He moved his bike up to the line, walking the machine back to its' place before shutting it down. As he removed his helmet, he watched her watching him from across the lot, her eyes covered by sunglasses, her expression serious. He hadn't had a chance to see her since he left her alone in his room and that was the day before yesterday… not that he was keeping track of that sort of thing.

"You been missin' me, sweetheart?" he called as he swung his leg off his bike, lifting his own sunglasses to the top of his head.

She gave a scoff, but didn't bother with any real reply, flicking her cigarette to the ground and crushing it with her heel. She sifted through her purse absently, giving herself an excuse to focus on something else as he took his time approaching, his footsteps heavy on the pavement. She should have figured that showing up early would somehow put her into _his _path. Things had been too quiet the past couple days.

"Not even a hello?" Tig asked, leaning against the wall beside her, tucking his hands in his pockets. "You're gonna manage to make a grown man cry, doll."

The brunette shot him a withering look as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his cut, taking one from the pack with his teeth. "You don't strike me as the crying type," she admitted, turning her focus back to her bag.

"She speaks," he teased, lighting his cancer stick. "Speak again, bright angel."

Shelby gave him a look of disbelief. "Shakespeare? Really?"

Tig shrugged before taking a deep drag. "Guess I'm just full of surprises." He blew a plume of smoke in the air. "What are you doing here anyway? Looking for another ride, baby?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"You wish," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest, dragging his attention lower as her cleavage became more obvious. "If you must know, I'm waiting for Opie."

"Explains the scarf," he noted, giving the garment a gentle tug.

She took a step to the side, straightening her accessory. "I'd rather not talk about that," she snapped, narrowing her eyes.

"Shelby, what the hell are ya doin' here?"

Both Tig and Shelby glanced over to see Chibs and Juice making their way from the clubhouse. Once she was in arms' reach, the Scot pulled her into a hug. "I just wanted to see your handsome face again," she flirted, giving him a grin.

"Ya flatterer," he replied, pressing his lips to her temple before taking a step back. "Tiggy ain't givin' ya any troubles, now, is he?"

"We can protect you if that's the case," Juice added with a wink.

Shelby glanced over at Tig as he turned to walk into the garage, clearly not interested in the conversation. "Oh, he's harmless," she replied, turning back to the two men in front of her, waving her hand. "But I do appreciate my two knights in shining leather just the same."

"Ya waitin' for Opie then, sweetheart?" Chibs asked as Juice checked his reflection in the window of a Oldsmobile.

The brunette chuckled. "You don't have to preen for me, Juice," she teased before turning her attention back to Chibs. "Yeah, he's supposed to be here in a half hour or so. Maybe less, if I'm lucky."

"He's making you wait?" the Puerto Rican asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

She shrugged. "He had some things to take care of and Amber had to get to Cara Cara," she explained. "I figured I'd find something to entertain me, I am a big girl."

"Aye, dat ya are," Chibs agreed, giving her a once over above his sunglasses before pushing them back up his nose. "Give Juice here a few and he should be entertainin' ya just fine."

Juice shot him a look. "I will?"

The Scot knocked him over the back of the head. "Be a feckin' gentleman fer once, wouldya?"

Shelby couldn't help but giggle at the their banter as they walked away towards the line of bikes. She glanced at her watch and let out a sigh, knowing Opie would still be at least 20 minutes. She froze as she felt heat at her back and a hand tight on her hip, the smell of Marlboro Reds, the tang of cheap aftershave, and a hint of leather tickling her nostrils.

"If you're really lookin' for some entertainment, why don't you let me help you out with that?" Tig murmured in her ear, pressing her back against him and his mouth twitched as he felt a shiver run through her.

The brunette took a breath, her gaze fixed on the men across the lot, the reapers on their backs seeming to mock her. "The other night was a one time ride, no do overs," she replied, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

He let out a dark chuckle, his fingers digging into her hip as he slowly moved them both backwards, deeper into the garage. "Why don't we get in the car and discuss that before you make those sort of rash decisions?" he offered, moving her hair off her shoulder and nipping at her ear before skimming his lips along her jaw.

Shelby scoffed, her hand moving over his to push him away, but his fingers laced with hers, holding them both tight against her hip. "I'm not going anywhere with you," she told him, her voice just above a whisper.

"Now, c'mon, doll," he murmured, taking note of where his brothers stood before letting his free hand brush the skin of her stomach, his thumb dipping just below her waistline. "You trying to tell me you didn't have a good time the other night?"

Her breath hitched as his fingers dragged against her bare skin and she willed herself not to react to his touch, his voice, his heat. "I told you I'm supposed to meet Opie," she reminded him, trying to ignore the breathless tone of her voice.

Tig smirked, feeling the way her resolve was slowly crumbling. "Means you have at least 15 minutes for a chat, doesn't it?" he argued, slipping his hand from beneath her shirt and opening the car door. "Get in the car."

Shelby glanced over her shoulder, her lashes lowered, her eyes on his mouth. "You're trying to tell me you've suddenly become a minute man?" she challenged, leaning away when he tried to capture her lips.

A smirk played on his face. "Just get in the car, baby," he murmured, giving a light push.

She let out a deep exhale, sparing one last glance across the lot. She knew it was a terrible idea and she knew they were both being careless, but her curious nature was getting the best of her, wondering what his idea of a 'chat' would entail. She slipped into the back seat of the car, her lashes lowered as she waited. Tig climbed in behind her, slamming the door shut and slithering in beside her, his body angled towards hers. Before she could open her mouth, he wrapped his fingers around her chin, slamming his mouth over hers, his tongue sliding over her teeth. She let out a quiet grunt of disapproval and shoved him back. "I don't know what kind of a girl you think I am but-"

Tig clapped a hand over her mouth. "Shut up," he snarled. He pressed her back in the bucket seat and shifted, lifting her skirt up her thighs exposing tiny white panties and faded bruising on her thighs. He let out a chuckle. "Don't know what it is and I never would have expected it," he told her, slipping a hand under the elastic waistband. "But I like seeing you in these."

Shelby's fingers wrapped around his thick wrist and pulled as a digit swiped over her clit, collecting moisture. "Tig," she gasped out. "What are you doing?" She tried to close her thighs, but his other hand moved from her mouth to shove her left leg against the side of the car, his left foot wrapping around her ankle to keep her spread. "I told you I have to meet-"

Her eyes rolled back as a finger shoved its way into her cunt. "I don't care if you have to meet the fuckin' pope, doll," he murmured softly, his lips brushing over her ear, making her shiver. "Told you this won't take long. And you were the one looking for some sort of _entertainment_."

She let out a cry, throwing her head back against the seat as he slipped a second finger to join the first, her own hand slamming against his thigh and squeezing.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you?" he purred, pressing the pads of his fingers against her inner wall before dragging them out and moving back in, his thumb slipping over her clit. He grinned when he felt her soak his fingers a bit more. "Want me to make you come all over this back seat, don't you? Have you walk around with Opie later, your cunt _throbbing _because you want my cock filling you instead of my fingers? Thinking about how you want a man that could be your _daddy _fuck you so hard you can barely _walk_?"

Shelby's fingers dug into the meat of his thigh, her thighs spreading further apart, unconsciously trying to give him better access. Her hips bucked, working to meet his fingers at each pass as they picked up the pace, pushing into her so hard that she was sure she would be bruised but all she could think was that she wanted _more_.

Tig's eyes shifted to glance out the windshield. A third finger joined the first two as he watched Chibs and Juice making their way back towards the garage and he grinned before turning back to the girl that was falling apart under his hand. He pulled the fabric of her scarf out of the way, cutting his teeth over the delicate skin of her throat, skin that was already torn and bruised from the night they had spent together, still healing. "Dirty slut," he complimented, pressing his thumb against her clit, making her cry out. "Chibby and Juicy are coming back this way," he told her, making her eyes fly open to look around wildly. "I should let them watch this, let them smell you."

She let out a quiet whimper at his words, her teeth digging into her lower lip as she tried to stay quiet and not give him the satisfaction that his fingers were giving her any sort of pleasure. Her heart was pounding in her ears, a mixture of her impending climax and the idea that they could be caught at any time.

"You'd _want _them to see you, wouldn't you?" Tig continued, nipping at her earlobe. "Knowing that you're supposed to be pining for Opie, yet you're letting me touch you like this…" He chuckled, the warmth of his breath moving over her ear.

"Tig," she groaned, sliding deeper into the seat, one of her hands moving to grab her own breast by it's own accord, her breath hitching as she felt the icy heat wash over her. "Don't stop," she muttered, her hips slamming into his hand.

He shook his head and kept moving, though his wrist was starting to cramp from the movement and the angle. He wanted to see her fall apart. "Come for me, baby girl," he ordered.

She let out a strangled cry, her back arching off the seat as she felt herself explode on his fingers, her hand moving to grab her hair. She pressed her face into his neck, muffling her shrieks and whimpers as he kept going, his hand working to keep her on the high that was making her lose control.

Tig felt like he was 12 and looking at his first nudie mag as she gushed all over his hand, his cock straining behind the zipper of his pants. He was going to have to take care of that, but he knew he was cutting it close and he couldn't risk getting caught with her like this, especially not by Opie, not after the kid's veiled warning at the table. He gave his fingers one last thrust into her cunt making her jump before pulling out, wiping them on her panties.

"Really?" she breathed as he slipped his hand out.

He gave her a shrug and a smirk. "Could've had you lick them clean," he reasoned. "Your choice baby."

She wrinkled her nose before blowing her bangs out her eyes and pressing a hand to her flushed cheek. "Nice," she muttered, her eyes slipping closed as she tried to slow her heart rate.

They both perked up as they heard the sound of a bike coming closer. "Shit," she muttered, smoothing her skirt over her thighs and trying to finger comb the knots of her hair. "I fucking _told you_," she snarled, her eyes flashing.

The older man gave her an almost bored look. "Relax, sweetheart," he muttered. "He'll look for you in the clubhouse before he thinks you're in here, if that's even him."

Shelby glowered at him, twisting around to look around the garage through the fogged windows. "What about Chibs?" she challenged. "Or Juice?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'll get out of the car and take care of those two," he reasoned, running a hand through his hair. "I'll give the car a tap when you're in the clear." He gave her a wolfish grin. "'less of course you want to return the favor, I can get rid of them all…"

She grit her teeth at him. "Will you just take care of _them_?" she rasped. She avoided his eyes, bringing her legs together but she could feel how wet she was. She licked her dry lips and absently ran her fingers through her hair.

Tig couldn't help but grin, noticing the effect he had on her as he moved to exit the car. "Try to keep your eyes off my ass, alright doll?" He didn't wait for a response as he unfolded himself from the sportscar, shaking out his legs.

"Tiggy boy, the fuck ye doin'?"

He glanced behind him to see Chibs and Juice standing over the toolbox, watching him curiously. "None of your concern," he replied easily.

"Missing 4 wheels, Tig?" Juice teased, leaning his hip against a shelf, crossing his arms over his chest. "Can let you drive the van on our next run if you're getting nostalgic."

Tig ignored him, running a thumb over his lower lip and he couldn't help but grin as Shelby's scent moved into his nostrils. "Don't either of you have somewhere else to be?" he asked in a withering tone.

"Aye, supposed ta meet Jackie boy down en Oakland," Chibs replied, glancing at the clock.

Juice shrugged. "I looked around for Shelby, but she pretty much vanished," he explained.

Tig chuckled. "Probably got terrified at the thought of bein' stuck with you," he retorted. "I know I'd run away if I had a choice."

The Puerto Rican glared at him. "I'm a joy to be around," he replied.

Chibs shook his head. "Children, behave," he joked, clapping Juice on the shoulder. "Check tha clubhouse fer tha girl, migh' be waitin' en there fer ya ef Op hasn't snatched her up."

The younger man gave a nod, his hands shoved into his pockets and ducking out of the garage. The Scot turned his attention to the man left in the garage. "Think ya can be stayin' out of trouble there, Tiggy?" he asked, scratching at his scarred cheek.

The darker man crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the side of the car. "Ain't my fault trouble finds me, brother," he replied, giving him a grin.

Chibs chuckled, pulling his sunglasses from his neck and settling them over his eyes. "Guess we all have our talents," he agreed. He gave a wave before ducking out of the garage and making his way towards his bike.

Tig waited a few moments before giving the car a light kick, pulling the door open. "All clear," he advised, crossing to his toolbox.

Shelby tumbled out of the vehicle, smoothing out her clothes. "Took you long enough," she muttered, running her fingers through her hair. "I thought you knew how to work fast."

He gave her a grin, twirling a wrench between his fingers. "C'mon, baby, I'd think you prefer it nice and slow," he retorted, giving her a leer.

"Shel? What are you doing in here"

Shelby turned towards the voice as Opie ducked into the garage. "Waiting for you," she replied, giving him a smile and standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

He wrapped an arm around her loosely. "You should have waited in the clubhouse, Pop's in there," he advised, his eyes darting over to Tig.

Tig shrugged his shoulders, walking to the front of the car and popping the hood. "Don't look at me, man, I'm just trying to get some work done." He turned his back on the two, a smirk playing over his lips.

Opie's mouth twitched, his gaze moving back to Shelby. "Were you waiting long?" he asked, moving a hand to the small of her back and guiding her towards his bike.

She shook her head, reaching behind her to pull her hair up into a ponytail. "Less than 30… Amber had to drop me before she went to work."

He frowned, grabbing a helmet and extending it to her. "You should have called me, I would've tried to get here earlier."

The brunette furrowed her brow and pouted her mouth. "You worried about me, Op?" she teased. "Think I can't take care of myself?"

He eyed her carefully as she lowered the helmet gently over her head, tightening the strap beneath her chin. "I worry about a lot these days," he admitted quietly, reaching forward to adjust her strap.

Shelby bit her lower lip, her eyes meeting his. "So, you think you might have a car I could borrow?" she finally asked, lowering her lashes to break the spell.

Opie cleared his throat, putting his own helmet in place. "Yeah, I think I can help you out with that," he replied, throwing a leg over his bike before glancing over his shoulder. "Get on and we'll go."

* * *

Gemma stood in the window of the office, watching Tig as he worked underneath the car. Her mouth gave a twitch as she lifted her mug of coffee to her lips, taking a sip. He wasn't listening to her, she could tell that much, letting himself be ruled by his cock, rather than his brain. She always thought that her husband's best friend was smart, but when it came to women? He was dumber than the whole club combined. That was how he'd managed to get into the mess with the bitch that gave him his twin girls.

She let out a quiet sigh, her eyes narrowed. She'd tried talk to him, let him know to keep Shelby at arm's length if he felt the need to look into her, but that had obviously gone out the other ear as soon as she'd opened her mouth. She knew that as soon as the girl tumbled out of the car, face flushed, eyes bright.

"What are you looking at?"

Gemma glanced over her shoulder to see Tara in the doorway, giving her a look of concern. "Nothing, baby," she replied, sparing one last glance at Tig before turning towards her son's girlfriend. "Just thinking about something."

"You have that look," Tara pressed, letting the door shut behind her.

The older woman arched an eyebrow. "What look?"

Tara gave a scoff. "The look that I always found was trouble, especially if you had been thinking about me."

Gemma gave her a thin smile, settling into her seat. "Then what a relief it should be that for once I wasn't thinking about you," she replied, crossing her legs.

The brunette nodded. "I guess so." She cleared her throat, her eyes moving around the office. "I just wanted to stop in, see if I could get the spare key I asked you about."

Gemma's mouth twitched, but she pulled open her desk drawer, grabbing a set of keys and slipping one off the ring. "Not sure why you didn't want to borrow Jackson's," she pointed out, extending the brass.

Tara grabbed the key and forced a smile. "I want to surprise him," she reminded the matriarch. "Less of a surprise if I ask him for the key."

"If my son wanted to be 'surprised', you'd have a key," she retorted, dropping her set back into the drawer.

"Duly noted," the doctor replied, suddenly exhausted by the nearly constant power struggle she participated in with her boyfriend's mother. "I appreciate you letting me borrow this," she said, tucking the key into her pocket. "I'll have it to back to you in an hour or so." She turned towards the door to leave.

"Tara."

The brunette stopped, turning to face Gemma. "Yes?"

Gemma's eyebrow twitched. "Shelby Lerner is back," she finally told the younger woman.

Tara slowly nodded. "Jax mentioned that to me," she replied. "Said she's been spending a lot of time with Opie, which makes sense. I haven't seen her."

The corner of the matriarch's mouth lifted. One of the few things she had in common with the younger Lerner sister was the feelings they both had towards the young doctor. It didn't surprise her that Shelby hadn't been around Tara since she'd blown back into town. "Jax mention to you why she might be back?"

Tara gave a shrug. "I'd imagine it has something to do with Donna, but we haven't talked about it," she replied. "Why?"

Gemma eyed Tara carefully before shaking her head. "No reason," she replied, slipping her glasses over her eyes and reading over the papers in front of her. "Bring my grandson with you when you come back so I can see him," she continued, dismissing her.


End file.
